Draco By Trial
by Thrintje
Summary: COMPLETE! Harry and Draco were friends, closer than many thought was healthy. Things start to go very wrong with their friendship and now the only person left able to tell everyone what really happened, is Draco. Now, he has no choice. SLASH HD
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't any of the Harry Potter characters, I'm just playing with them for a while. I only own the plot, such as it is :)

**RATING:** R, for language and sexual situations, this might change at some point but probably not because I know how you all love a bit of dirtiness!

**WARNING: **This fic contains slash or homosexual references, if this offends you, please do not read any further.

A/N: OK, so here's the beginning of my new fic! Yay! I'm so excited! I don't think it will be as angsty as my last one, but a healthy dose of angst never hurt anyone right? Enjoy…

_Cos__ if it's over_

_And then it's over_

_And it's driving me insane_

_Take a walk outside your mind_

_Tell me how it feels to be_

_The one who turns the knife inside of me_

_Take a look and you will find_

_There's nothing there girl yeah I swear_

_I'm telling you girl yeah cos_

_There's a hole,_

_In my soul,_

_That's been killing me forever,_

_It's a place where the garden never grows._

_There's a hole,_

_In my soul,_

_Yeah I should have known better,_

_Cos your love's like a thorn without a rose._

**Aerosmith – Hole in My Soul**

As Draco Malfoy entered the courtroom, complete silence descended. He was escorted to the only chair at the front by his two wizard guards, the dementors had long ago been dismissed from ministry employment. So the ministry said anyway, Draco knew that they'd simply gone straight back to Voldemort as soon as they'd heard of his return. The chains attached to the arms and legs of the chair wound around him as soon as he sat, holding him captive. This was no more than he'd expected. There were no windows in his room and the dark atmosphere seemed to seep into everything in the room. Draco would be intimidated if he hadn't been here before for his father's trial, and if he actually cared about what happened here today. Dim light filled the room, torchlight reflected on row after row of faces, all looking down at him. There was disgust and hatred in some of their eyes, fear in others, and some looked painfully betrayed. Some.

He really didn't care what any of them thought though. He was here for one purpose, and one purpose only: to tell the truth, or the truths that he was expected to tell. In some ways, he thought it would be relieving to finally be able to tell almost everything that had happened, every thought he'd had, but it didn't stop him also wanting to run away screaming. He found it comforting that soon he would be taken back to his cell in Azkaban to waste away in peace.

He felt nothing now, no more fear or hatred or love, only a wish to get this over with as soon as possible. He just wanted to be left alone now. He could make out the outline of a man standing far above him, and the voice of Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, floated through the room.

"Draco Malfoy, you are accused of the murders of Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, and of the attempted murder of Harry Potter. You are also accused of with-holding information about possible Death Eater activities. How do you plead?"

Draco could almost taste the anticipation in the room and a ghost of his old smirk appeared on his face. He could sense a collective holding of breath and decided to put them out of their misery before they all turned blue from lack of oxygen. In a clear voice which rang through the room, he said,

"Guilty."

*

Draco didn't bother to look for his mother as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. He knew she wouldn't be there, she'd sent him a letter explaining that she was far too embarrassed by the spectacle her son had made of himself to show her face in public. He could, however, see Weasley and Granger. He could even make out the pure hatred in Weasley's eyes. _'That's not going to be pretty later,'_ he thought glumly. The disappointment and betrayal he saw in Granger's eyes bothered him much more than Weasley's fury. _'That's going to be even worse.'_

Fudge was droning on as Draco's mind drifted, something about the purpose of this trial being to do with the wishes of the victims' friends. _'Bollocks to that! More like Fudge creating this media circus to reinstate his authority.' Draco tried hard to ignore the self-satisfied tone of Fudge's voice. All of this felt a bit much for Draco. His mind conjured up the image he had desperately been trying to banish: too-bright green eyes, pupils dilating in fear, a feeling of complete powerlessness, his arm rising…_

"Mr Malfoy!"

Draco was jerked back to reality, momentarily confused because a wizard was standing in front of him, holding a vial of clear liquid.

"The veritaserum Mr Malfoy," Fudge said sharply.

"Oh. Yes," Draco said faintly. He obediently opened his mouth to accept the potion. The initial taste was strongly metallic, but it faded to a sickly sweetness which coated the back of his tongue, making him thirsty. Draco resented being made to take this potion, but he supposed that in the Ministry's eyes it was necessary. 

"Now, Mr Malfoy, I shall begin by asking you to reveal the nature of your relationship with Harry Potter, as this seems to be the catalyst for your crimes."

Draco faltered immediately, he'd expected some sort of build-up to this question. The potion in his veins forbid him from lying, but he didn't know the right way to answer the question.

"Harry and me, it's complicated. I don't really know how to answer that."

"You _were enemies, weren't you?"_

"I suppose you could say that, yes. This year though, not so much. Not at all."

"But still, you tried to kill him? You used the Avada Kedavra curse on him?"

"Yes, yes I did." There was a gasp from the audience. Draco nearly snorted _'Well it's not as though you didn't already know!'_

"So the…dislike between you diminished?" Fudge continued, ignoring the reactions of those around him. He was obviously determined to get to the bottom of this in a thorough and complete way.

"In a way," said Draco, still unsure of the answers he was giving.

"You keep a diary, do you not Mr Malfoy?" Fudge asked, making, in Draco's opinion, a complete u-turn in his line of questioning.

"Er…yes. So what?" he asked, immediately on guard.

"Well, I have here a quote from your diary, if you would allow me to refresh your memory." _'Bastard!'_ Draco thought, as Fudge began to read aloud some of Draco's innermost thoughts; thoughts he never wanted anyone to know he'd had.

*

_There is an extraordinary intimacy found in hating someone; in focussing your entire being on making that one person who you have deemed important enough to completely hate, absolutely fucking miserable. But what do you do when that line gets blurred; when the intimacy takes over and pushes the hate aside like an inconsequential thing? Love and hate are not opposites. The antithesis of both hate and love, is apathy. But this also doesn't mean that hate and love is the same thing. There are similarities, like how much you obsess over the other person, or like how you sit on your own and think of clever things to say to them, and how you always want to impress them; but they are essentially different. So what happens when you get confused? What happens when you find yourself not wanting to hate anymore? What happens when your dreams about administering a crushing defeat, somehow change and morph so that you're crying with them, and it's not in pain, but in ecstasy? _

_There are so many extremes in life, and we are constantly looking for them; believing that we feel them. Love never turns to hate, hate does not turn to love. There is an in-between ground to these emotions; a place where most of us exist. We are not all Romeo and Juliet; God and the Devil. Dislike can turn to affection; an intense fondness can turn to loathing. The shades of grey that shroud us seem to distort our thinking. We are rarely passionate, inspired, overtaken by the sensation of emotions flooding through the veins. We are hormones and sexual impulses, the product of our social environment and genetics. We live for the mundane day-to-day life, abhorring upsets to the schedule. _

_But sometimes we have no choice. Sometimes a person enters our life and shifts everything off-centre, so that nothing feels right and you know that nothing will be the same again. That is when you know that you are more than just an intricate, organic machine. That is when you know you are more than just a collection of learned responses to stimuli in the environment. That is when you know that you have free choice, that there is something more than this, and that love and hate aren't opposites._

_That is when you discover what magic really is._

_When this happens, we take comfort from the coolness of living in the shadows. Too often we shy away from the intensity of these feelings. We lock ourselves away in small dark rooms where our impulses cannot go, and we hide in the dark because it's simply too much to bear._

*

In the silence that followed Draco sat, stunned. He'd almost completely forgotten writing that, but the memories came flooding back now. How he'd felt when writing it, so afraid and confused; experiencing emotions he had never expected to feel. It was just the day before… He mentally shook himself, unwilling to think about those things again; about things which should never have happened. Everything was his fault, and he didn't need this trial to establish that.

Fudge was talking again,

"Now I shall ask you again Mr Malfoy, what was your relationship with Harry Potter?" This irritated Draco no end,

"As I've already said, it's complicated," he snapped.

"Mr Malfoy! If you persist in making these evasive answers we will give you the full dose of veritaserum which will erase you of any conscious thought and make this all go much quicker!" Fudge was getting angry, but this was nothing compared to what Draco was feeling.

"Look," he nearly shouted, "it's not my fault you're asking the wrong questions you idiot! If you'd just let me start from the beginning, I'll tell you everything and you can make up your own mind." Fudge was clearly disgruntled by Draco's disrespectful words, but conceded to his wishes.

"Fine, Mr Malfoy, we'll do this your way. When was the first time you saw Harry Potter this year?"

"On the Hogwarts Express, on September 1st. I was sitting alone…"

As Draco spoke, the memories of his first day of his sixth year at Hogwarts played like a movie in his mind. How much simpler things had been then; how much easier.

*

Draco sighed heavily as he settled himself down into the last empty carriage on the Hogwarts Express. It was September 1st and he couldn't think of anywhere less that he wanted to be at that very moment in time, than on his way back to Hogwarts. It was the first day of his sixth year at school, and he was alone. Literally and figuratively. He had had to make his own way to King's Cross that morning; he'd had to do so many things on his own recently. After his father's imprisonment in Azkaban just before the end of his fifth year, his mother had completely withdrawn into herself. Draco presumed she missed her husband and longed for his return to Malfoy Manor. He hadn't really bothered to find out if this was the case because, personally, he hoped Lucius would rot there for the rest of his life. Due to his father's indiscretions, they had also had to suffer the indignity of the Ministry of Magic searching their home for Dark Arts artefacts and for clues of Voldemort's whereabouts. Draco had been outraged, but there was nothing he could do. They hadn't found anything, obviously, Lucius had always been so _careful_ about that kind of thing.

Draco was doing his best to avoid his Slytherin housemates for as long as possible. His family's name had been dragged through the mud that summer and the last thing he needed to see were their gloating faces. All those pathetic sheep had been waiting for _years_ for a Malfoy to trip up and make a mistake. His entire family put such an importance on pride and not letting the infidels seeing weaknesses; kinks in their armour, that those in their social circle had been just _itching_ for the chance to pounce. _'Fucking vultures'_ he thought bitterly. He did not fool himself into thinking that he would receive any sympathy from them on the loss of a parent.

He sighed again and looked out of the window. The train was just pulling away from the station, exposing the dreary September weather outside. It had gotten extremely cold very early that year. A signal of things to come probably. If Draco was to be completely honest with himself, the real reason that he was dreading returning to school, was that he was bored there. His lessons were uninspiring, depressingly so, and the people there were even duller. There was Dumbledore and all of his stupid Gryffindors, not forgetting precious Harry Potter, the jewel in the crown of the wizarding world. Draco's face twisted into a bitter grimace at the thought of Potter and all those gullible, predictable, _boring Gryffindors. But then, the Slytherins were just as bad. The only real difference was that they blindly followed someone other than Dumbledore and his band of do-gooders._

The door to his compartment opened, and Crabbe and Goyle lumbered in, grunting their greetings. Draco wondered fleetingly if they had even heard what had been going on over the summer, and about the drastic fall his social stock had taken. Then he remembered that it was extremely doubtful that the two could even read, so it would probably be slightly out of their depths to try and grasp the concept of Death Eater politics. 

It really was _too_ depressing for words.

*

Draco was desperately trying to break patterns this year; to do different things which would break the tedious monotony of life at Hogwarts. However, there was one ritual that he simply couldn't give up; he got far too much pleasure and satisfaction from it. It was because of this that, halfway through the train journey, Draco took a deep breath, steeling himself, stood up and left his carriage. The corridor was blissfully Slytherin-free as he sauntered along, head held high as he glanced into each compartment.

When he reached the one he was looking for, he paused momentarily before making his entrance. Laughter spilled from the compartment, rolling over Draco like waves of some foreign liquid he had long forgotten about. For a moment, he thought back and realised he couldn't remember the last time he had laughed. Weasley and Granger were sitting together, both grinning idiotically. Draco quirked an eyebrow when he noted how close together they were sitting. _'Interesting.' His gaze then fell on Potter, who was sitting by the window, looking gloomily at the miserable weather. He turned his head back to his two friends as they addressed him and grinned widely, running a hand through his hair and momentarily exposing the scar which seemed to define him. Draco noticed that Potter didn't seem to have changed much over the summer. He had the same stupid glasses, the same unruly hair, and that same gangly air that he never quite managed to lose until he got on a broomstick. _'Still the same. Nothing ever changes.'_ Draco thought glumly._

As he gazed in on the Trio, he was struck by the intimacy they shared. It wasn't just the burgeoning relationship between Weasley and Granger; there was a sense of safety and trust between all of them. As they sat and laughed, Draco almost didn't want to destroy the moment. He merely wanted to revel in something he would probably never have: Slytherin's haven't been known for their numerous friendships. Then, the Weasel's eyes fell on him and they flashed in anger and irritation, immediately losing their mirth. Having been spotted, Draco was now compelled to enter. He buried his doubts and slid the door to the compartment open, placing his patented 'Malfoy Smirk' on his face. It felt odd there, as though it wasn't quite right for this situation, but he shook off those thoughts and began the ritual.

"Well look who's here." Draco drawled, managing to infuse just the right amount of sarcasm into his voice. "My three most favourite people in the world."

"What do you want Malfoy? Just sod off." Weasley snapped, a slight pink shade colouring his cheeks.

"Now, now, language Weasley. You'll offend my innocent ears." Draco chided, feigning indignation. Weasley snorted. "Besides, that's not very nice, I haven't even said anything yet!"

"Don't bother." Draco ignored him, instead a knowing smirk found his lips.

"So how was your summer Weasley? Did you get any from the Mudblood here, or did even _she_ refuse to visit that shack you call a home?" Weasley was on his feet instantly, his fists balled at his sides. Draco sighed internally, even _this was too easy._

"Take that back you disgusting-"

"Ron!" Potter had risen and placed a placating hand on his friend's shoulder. "Ron, sit down. You know he's only doing it to get at you." He turned to look at Draco, his look was appraising. "What do you really want Malfoy? Why are you here?" Draco bristled, intense loathing pumping through his veins.

"How's the conscience Potter?" he sneered, landing on the most obvious thing he could think of to taunt Potter with. "All those deaths must weigh on you. How many more father figures and friends do you think are going to die because of your carelessness? How was _your_ summer?" However, Potter didn't get angry; didn't pull out his wand or raise his fists. He smiled. Weasley was practically growling in the corner, but both Potter and Draco ignored him. Potter continued to smile, and Draco grew more and more infuriated.

"What?" he finally snapped irritably.

"I was just thinking that my summer probably wasn't as bad as yours was Malfoy." Potter said. "After all, I'm used to not having a father around. How're you finding it?" Draco glared angrily at Potter. He would _not give that brat the satisfaction of seeing how hard it had really been. He simply __wouldn't._

"It's strangely refreshing actually." he snapped before turning on his heel and leaving, feeling that Potter had still gotten one over him. He missed the slightly puzzled and concerned look which crossed Potter's face as he left.

*

A/N: OK so tell me what you think, I'm very optimistic about where this is going, and I've written quite a bit of it already. All reviews would be extremely welcome. Go on, you want to really, it's not as though it takes very long!


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, I'm just playing with them for a while. I only own the plot, such as it is :)

**RATING:** R, for language and sexual situations, this might change at some point but probably not because I know how you all love a bit of dirtiness!

**WARNING: **This fic contains slash or homosexual references, if this offends you, please do not read any further.

_Sweet the sin_

_But bitter the taste in my mouth_

_I see seven towers_

_But I only see one way out_

_You got to cry without weeping_

_Talk without speaking_

_Scream without raising your voice, you know_

_I took the poison, from the poison stream,_

_Then I floated out of here_

**U2 – Running to Stand Still**

Draco has two scars on his face; parallel lines that run from his left cheek bone to his chin. They were left there to remind him of the last time he saw Harry's eyes. He refused to let the doctors heal them.

He ran his hand softly over them now, tracing the slightly raised lines with his fingertips; a habit he'd picked up, sort of like a nervous tick. He knows that Fudge has noticed, but also knows that he won't mention it. Not yet anyway.

"So at the beginning of term, everything was as it had always been?" Fudge asked for clarification.

Draco hesitated,

"No, it wasn't. Weren't you listening? Things between me and Harry were the same; I was still an arrogant prick towards him and he was still a sanctimonious little bastard, but I wasn't the same person anymore." Draco said all of this slowly, as though testing the words to make sure they tasted right.

"Why not? What changed?"

"You have to realise the effect that my father's imprisonment had on me."

"Your father, Lucius Malfoy. He was given a life-term sentence to serve in Azkaban for being a Death Eater."

"Yes," Draco said softly. "When he went away, everything changed for me. I was _Mr Malfoy now, not just Lucius' son. I expected everything to be better; to be less constricting."_

"Constricting? What do you mean?" Fudge asked sharply.

"My father is a very strict man, Cornelius," Draco revelled in the slight twitch his use of Fudge's first name caused on the man's face. "As far as I could see, there weren't many choices ahead of me that hadn't already been made for me. It was quite insulting actually, that they didn't trust me to make the right decisions on my own. Anyway, what I didn't realise was that by inheriting my father's name, I had just as many responsibilities and just as many expectations to live up to."

"Such as?"

"I was expected to follow in my father's footsteps. As I'm sure you know, my family has been attached to the Dark Arts for generations, my father was tame compared to some of the horrors in my family's past."

"So this was a problem for you? Becoming involved in the Dark Arts?" Draco hated Fudge merely for the disbelieving tone of voice he used to utter that one sentence.

"Yes," he said icily. "I wasn't about to go and throw myself at Voldemort's feet for a whole lifetime of being controlled when I was sick of it after sixteen years."

"So what did you decide to do?"

"I did nothing. I went back to school and tried to forget that anything had changed. Unfortunately, things didn't work quite the way I'd planned. Everyone there knew all about everything that had happened to my family; every embarrassing detail. I found that even at _Hogwarts_ I couldn't escape the legacy my father had left me. I came under increasing pressure to act and prove myself worthy of my name. Instead of taking up the role that was expected of me, I distanced myself from many of my house-mates; made myself unavailable to them. I saw them carry on without me, plotting, scheming, coming up with what they thought were devious plans to get themselves noticed by their parents and Voldemort. It was so frustrating to watch! These were my friends, and I was unable to do anything but sit on the sidelines and watch them throw their lives away because I was too afraid to go against my father's wishes." Draco took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, it was becoming very difficult for him not to show just how much this had all affected him; to not show just how much he cared. Sympathy was not something he needed from this audience.

"Is this where the trouble between you and your housemates in Slytherin began then?" Fudge asked. _'What an asinine question,'_ Draco thought harshly, _'isn't that obvious?'_

"Yes," he said quietly. "I voiced some, urm, 'unpopular' opinions of mine. They didn't really agree with me." He'd been so stupid; so foolhardy thinking he could change their minds when they were so afraid. It should have been so obvious that they would turn on him.

*

Draco entered the Slytherin common room silently, expecting that at this late hour it would be deserted. He'd been out after hours smoking by the lake, a habit he'd picked up earlier that year in France. He was assured of immunity from the rules due to his position as a Slytherin prefect, a position he took great pride in having acquired the previous year. He'd found himself going for long walks more frequently recently, in an almost unconscious attempt to distance himself from his friends, and his smoking was a convenient excuse. Draco found that he quite liked the simple act of smoking; a pure and simple occupation for his hands whilst he thought. He also found that he had his best ideas and was at his most lucid whilst smoking; it calmed him. 

He was thinking vaguely this night that maybe smoking was something he should give up, if only because of the way he smelt afterwards, when he heard quiet voices coming from the direction of the large fireplace at the far end of the common room.

"Yes, but what can we really do here? We're so cut off!"

"I know it's frustrating, but-" The voices stopped when their owners finally registered Draco's presence. _'I should have known,'_ Draco thought, before stepping closer. Pansy, Millicent, Blaise, Vincent, Gregory and a few others were all sitting in the light of the dying fire. He was surprised to see a few students from the younger years also present, something he would have avoided if he'd still been active. They had all turned to stare at him and were looking uncomfortable; like naughty children caught with their hands in the biscuit tin. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Did I miss anything important?" he asked casually. Pansy, her voice slightly higher than usual, stood and said, 

"Draco! We tried to find you, but you weren't in your room and no-one had seen you and…" her voice trailed off, withering under the force of his piercing gaze.

"Well?" he asked. Pansy swallowed, and then straightened her shoulders, determinately matching his stare.

"You've been so quiet and detached lately, ever since the beginning of term really. You haven't been yourself. I mean, you haven't even been torturing the Gryffindors for fuck's sake!" She glanced around at the others for support, who all refused to meet her eyes, and shifted uncomfortably. "So we thought…"

"So you thought you'd have your little Young Death Eaters Association meeting without me this time? Without your leader?" Draco finished scathingly, not really knowing why he was getting so angry.

"Yes," Pansy finished defiantly. "Well what else did you expect us to do?" Draco was suddenly hit by a wave of guilt. He looked around at his friends, and saw how lost they looked. They had no guidance, no inspiration, no voice of reason. They must feel completely useless without him. 

Emboldened by his silence, Pansy carried unthinkingly on. "Besides, some of us don't want to just sit around and wait for our parents-" She stopped abruptly, obviously thinking she should have stopped talking whilst she was ahead. Draco's eyes narrowed,

"Parents, Pansy? You seem to forget that some of our _parents_ have already sacrificed far too much for this worthless cause." Pansy closed her eyes and turned her head away. Then Draco's words finally registered, and she turned back to openly gape at him.

"Worthless, Draco?" Blaise had apparently found his voice, rising from his chair to stand beside Pansy. Draco's irritation returned with full force. After everything they had seen happen over the summer; after everything they'd seen happen to _him, he'd still come across them, plotting and planning as he used to do with them. Forming stupid little plans that would, in their minds, show their resistance to Dumbledore, but that really just showed everyone else how petty they were. But then, Draco remembered the fear he used to feel, when he didn't think his father would ever think him worthwhile enough to pay any attention to; the fear that, without this one thing to aim towards in his life, he would be left adrift in a heartless world that despised everything he stood for._

He understood these people standing in front of him; these pathetically frightened and intimidated teenagers, because he used to be worse than all of them.

"Yes Blaise, it's a worthless cause." Draco said quietly, managing to remove the anger and irritation from his voice. His statement was met with complete silence, but he jumped on the opportunity. These were his friends, his companions; his kin. He was their leader, and it was his responsibility to take care of them. It was his responsibility to make sure they all stuck together. Maybe they would be able to put their faith in him instead of in some insubstantial and unattainable goal. "What are you doing here?"

"Well we were thinking about ways to sabotage-" Vince began, misunderstanding Draco's meaning completely.

"I mean, why are you doing this?" Draco asked patiently.

"Why? Because it's our duty; it's what we do," Pansy said, looking surprised that Draco had asked such an obvious question.

"Doesn't that strike you as a particularly stupid reason for doing something?"

"Not really, no. Look, what are you getting at?" Blaise was clearly becoming annoyed.

"I just want to know why you're wasting your time and effort thinking up stupid little plots to piss off the Gryffindors, when you know no-one's going to pay any attention. The only person we ever got anywhere with was that stupid bitch Umbridge, and she's not even here anymore!"

"Draco, it is our responsibility as Slytherins to-"

"To what? To be petty and childish and make ourselves look like fools at every turn? Haven't you ever noticed that we never seem to get anywhere? We just seem to siphon off our pride, a tiny bit at a time."

"What the hell would you know about being a Slytherin anyway? It's not as though you've been much of a part of our House this year." Draco was stopped in his tracks, hurt by Blaise's words, even though he knew there was an element of truth in them. He carried on in a much quieter voice than before, saying,

"I know a damn sight more than you do apparently and I will always be faithful to my House. I just think that maybe it's time for a change."

"A change? What kind of change?"

"A change of attitude. It's time we showed everyone that we're not just a bunch of pathetic Voldemort supporters who can't think for themselves. I, for one, do not want to be controlled anymore, that's not who a Slytherin is."

"Control? It's not about control! It's about making our world safe from Muggles who would seek to destroy us because they can't understand us. It's about keeping bloodlines pure and unsullied. It's about right and wrong Draco, something you seem to have lost sight of."

"Oh, everything's just so black and white isn't it? Grow up for God's sake Blaise. Are you that naïve that you can't see what is really going on here? It's about power and fear, not pure blood. Voldemort's a half-blood you know?"

"What? What the hell? Shut up Draco, just shut up!" Blaise turned away, clearly distressed by this piece of information but unwilling to show his ignorance.

"Listen to me now," Draco said, turning his attention to the rest of them. "You're Slytherins; do you even know what that means? It doesn't mean being dark and evil, and it doesn't mean being Voldemort's minions. We are more than the stereotype this fucking school has forced on us and frankly, I've had enough! We're intelligent, cunning, ambitious; all positive attributes. We are all destined to be great wizards and witches. Don't you think it's time we rose above all of this petty bickering?" He looked around at them again, challenging them with the force of his glare. Many looked away, unwilling to meet his eyes, but Pansy stood her ground once more. Hands on her hips, she matched him glare for glare.

"What's happened to you?"

"I grew up Pansy."

"You grew up? Do you even realise what you're saying?" she asked incredulously. "You're suggesting we go against our parents, our heritage, the _Dark Lord; you're suggesting we just turn away from that?"_

"Yes," said Draco quietly. 

"Are you completely fucking insane?" she screeched. "What the hell is wrong with you? What would your father say?" A collective shudder ran through the group as they contemplated an angry Lucius Malfoy.

"My father is in prison. Personally, I don't give a flying fuck what he would say."

"You don't seriously believe that he's going to stay there do you? One of the Dark Lord's strongest supporters? Left to rot in Azkaban when the dementors have already left and all that's left to keep him inside is brick walls? Even you aren't that stupid."

"I'm not afraid," Draco said, and suddenly discovered that he really wasn't. After spending so much time trying to avoid making any decisions, it seemed that he'd already made them.

"So what're you going to do? Run off to Dumbledore and his cronies and 'fight for the light side'?" The scorn in Pansy's voice was evident.

"Don't be so obtuse Pansy. I'm not going to _do_ anything. I'm sick of being told I have to take a side."

"What you're saying is dangerous Draco. You'll get us all killed. What about the Dark Lord? What happens when he hears about all of your new 'ideals' and 'morals'? Aren't you afraid of him?"

"_Voldemort, Pansy, is so intent on destroying Dumbledore and Potter, he won't even notice."  _

"You're a fool Draco."

"Maybe, but at least I'm not going to hide in the dark, mouldy dungeons for the rest of my life."

*

And that was it, in those few words, such a short amount of time, Draco had destroyed everything.

He felt a chill come over him as he remembered it; everything he'd said, every look exchanged. He remembered feeling emboldened by his friends' weaknesses; kinks in their armour that he'd picked up on long ago and had used shamelessly to meet his own ends. He'd thought that, in their eyes, he was infallible; that they would follow him to the end. He hadn't realised that he was really seen as the leader that would help them reign victorious and shine like stars amongst the ranks of Voldemort's minions. 

The truth serum forbid him from lying, as much as he wanted to. He wanted to hide his shamefully high opinion of himself and the way he had once again tried to manipulate his friends. He hadn't wanted to help them to drag themselves out of mediocrity, he had merely been too afraid to do it on his own. He had known that he could no longer stand being imposed upon by a higher power that had no right to try and control him. He had known that he no longer wanted to live in fear of his life because he might not be good enough to please a power-hungry half-blood. What he hadn't understood was the power that that fear could have over those less strong-willed than himself. He hadn't realised that, having voiced his opinions, he had made himself a threat to their tenuous equilibrium and that they would stop at nothing to crush him.

His father had once said to him,

"Always remember Draco, magic makes you a god among men."

It was only now, in hindsight, that Draco realised just how wrong Lucius had been.

*

Hermione listened to Draco's cold and impassioned voice telling the court things she already knew, and hated every breath he took. She felt so stupid and angry with herself for trusting Draco as little as she had. How could she possibly have been so blind as to not realise that something like this would have happened? But Harry had been so insistent and genuine about Draco, that she hadn't been able to resist. Harry had a way of drawing you in and subtly turning you around to his point of view. He'd also seemed so much happier this year, as though he'd managed to work through a lot of his anger, and Draco, as much as she hadn't wanted to admit it, was good for him. She'd watched them sometimes, bouncing friendly insults off of each other as though they'd been doing it for years, and had sensed that they shared something special; something she would never understand.

_'Poor Harry,'_ she thought. _'Look where it's gotten him now.'_ A wave of sadness washed over her as she thought of her friend, but she pushed it quickly away. Now was not the time.

She could feel the anger rolling off of Ron from where he was sitting next to her. He was glaring at Draco, unable to turn his eyes away, as though he was trying to make the boy combust in front of his eyes by sheer mental ability. She was concerned that she'd have to stop him later from jumping down and killing Draco with his bare hands.

She had, of course, been deeply concerned by what had blossomed between the two boys. Draco was too dangerous for Harry to be around; he was an unknown factor, unreliable and erratic. Harry had enough problems of his own without adding the confusing Draco-variable. However, things had appeared to be relatively peaceful between them. If anything, Harry had the upper hand in their friendship; Draco had appeared so dependent on him, almost doting. How wrong she had been. Harry had never been in control.

Now, Hermione was here, like everyone else, to find out what had _really happened between Harry and Draco, and why Draco had tried to kill Harry._

*

A/N: thanks to everyone who reviewed, and yes, the diary entry I wrote in the last chapter was all my own words! I hope you enjoyed this next instalment, there's a lot more to come! I'd love to hear any comments you have, be brutal I can take it :-)


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, I'm just playing with them for a while. I only own the plot, such as it is :)

**RATING:** R, for language and sexual situations, this might change at some point but probably not because I know how you all love a bit of dirtiness!

**WARNING: **This fic contains slash or homosexual references, if this offends you, please do not read any further.

_Why did you come here?_

_You weren't invited._

_You're on the outside_

_Stay on the outside_

_And now you want to ask me why_

_It's like, how does your heart beat?_

_How do you cry?_

**Lisa Loeb - How**

Draco was silent for a long time before Fudge was able to get him to talk again. He seemed to get lost in memories of being with his friends, times when they were younger and all that mattered was the next Quidditch match or what latest hilarious disaster Longbottom had caused in Potions. He longed for a return to that innocence; that childlike naivety when he was allowed to make mistakes and believed that his father was like a god.

It was amazing how everything had gone so wrong so quickly. After that fateful night in the Slytherin common room, not one person in his house would speak to him; they could barely look at him. He had refused to let them see the effect this had on him. He would sit alone during lessons and at mealtimes, and in the evenings he would lock himself away in his private prefects' room, acting as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do. He ignored the hostility and the sarcasm; he could spar with the best of them but hadn't really been able to see the point, it wasn't as though they were going to pay any attention.

It had been the most miserable time of his life. He wouldn't utter words for days on end, and he'd felt as though he were acting merely on autopilot as he walked the halls each day. People had noticed obviously; had noticed the jibes and cruelty which was aimed in his direction, but they all stayed well away from it. Slytherin politics were not entered into lightly and, to be honest, nobody had really cared enough to bother. Except Harry of course.

"Mr Malfoy, if you please." Fudge's voice, ever so slightly softened, finally managed to pierce Draco's mind.

"What? Oh, yes. Sorry. Carry on, I'm listening."

"Right, well," Fudge was fumbling his words, clearly trying to retain some semblance of control without coming across as insensitive. "So, as I understand it, the 'confrontation' between yourself and your housemates caused a rift?"

"Yes you could say that," Draco said sadly. "I tried to explain further, but they simply refused to listen. They turned the whole house against me."

"And your position as Slytherin prefect?"

Draco grimaced,

"I didn't think it was _appropriate_ for me to carry on as the prefect of a house that wanted nothing to do with me, so I relieved myself of the duty. Professor Snape was kind enough to let me retain the private room which is a Slytherin prefect's privilege. I think he did it mainly to keep me away from the rest of the house to avoid any fights."

"Ah, but I have numerous witnesses who have reported countless confrontations between you and, predominantly, Miss Parkinson and Mr Zabini throughout the year." Fudge's voice hardened.

"Yes," Draco whispered, picturing their sneering, spiteful faces. "Pansy and Blaise." A murmur ran through those gathered and a quickly stifled sob sounded. Draco closed his eyes momentarily and saw Pansy's shocked face staring down at the knife in her stomach, blood was seeping slowly around the edges of the blade as she grasped the handle and pulled. Draco re-opened his eyes, breathing heavily; feeling the bile rising in his throat.

_'Shit. Stop it. Stop thinking about it!'_

There had been too many fights with those two. However, he considered, Harry would probably have never tried to talk to him if they hadn't been quite so vicious and public in their attacks on him. _'Every cloud…'_ he thought grimly.

*

Draco stood just outside of the Great Hall, taking deep breaths. He could hear the sounds of the school having dinner; loud, cheerful voices, the scrape of chairs, the soft clink of cutlery. He was purposefully late, as he was every day now. He tended to rush in, eat quickly and then leave.

He took one last deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and entered the hall, steeling himself for what was to come. It was like a constant torture being forced to do this, but he wasn't about to let anyone else see that.

He made his way slowly and sedately towards the Slytherin table and made to sit down. It was at this point that he realised that there was nowhere for him to sit and that he'd have to ask someone to move. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, before looking pointedly at a third year who was sitting near the end. The infuriating bastard merely sneered at him briefly before carrying on eating. If Draco had been in his place, he would have done exactly the same thing. 

Draco clenched his fists and moved towards where the sixth years were sitting.

*

He stumbled into the nearest empty classroom, their words still echoing in his ears. He fell to his knees as his strength left him and tears threatened to fall. If he had been in any doubt before, he was sure now, they'd seen to that. He was completely on his own.

Harsh words floated through his mind. 

_'Stupid ponce, who do you think you are?'_

_'Go away; can't you see that no-one wants you here?'_

_'Take your arrogant self away from this table; I can barely stand to look at you.'_

Early evening light flooded lazily into the room, causing long shadows on the ground. The silence was deafening. Draco closed his eyes, willing his feelings of sadness and rising panic to go away. He leant his head on the nearest desk, and tried to breathe deeply. He didn't know how long he sat there, kneeling on the ground enveloped in silence, but when the door banged open and he raised his head, the soft light of the sunset seemed harsh to his eyes, and he had to squint.

Draco got to his feet as three people noisily entered the room. When they finally noticed him, they stopped dead, slowly taking in his dishevelled appearance and slightly blotchy face. _'Perfect,'_ he thought, as Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry fucking Potter continued to stare at him.

*

Silence descended upon the room once more, as Draco desperately tried to regain control over himself. If only they would stop staring, or just turn around and leave. It was bad enough that anyone had come across him like this, but it just had to be those three. He expected Weasley's face to break into a huge grin any second, so he pre-empted this by saying,

"What?" His voice seemed to knock them out of their trance, and Granger shook herself. She stared at him for a moment longer, a perceptive and assessing look which made him distinctly uncomfortable.

"Sorry Malfoy, we thought this room was empty," she said briskly.

"Well it obviously isn't." Draco turned his back on them and was rewarded when, a few seconds later, he heard the door open and close again. He sighed and turned back, then froze when he came face to face with Potter; just Potter.

*

"You're trying to tell me that Harry Potter…Harry _Potter_ willingly instigated a conversation with _you_? _He_ was the one who started it?" Fudge was incredulous.

"Oh yes," Draco said smugly. "Harry started everything. It was all him. Surprised?" He began to grin as he thought of Harry, and found it very difficult to stop.

*

Potter was standing in front of him. Draco blinked twice to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, but he was still there.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" he snapped, finally breaking the silence. Potter didn't say anything, just ducked his head then raised it again, a slight smile playing on his lips. He tapped his foot, then stopped and merely carried on staring. He appeared to be undecided about something.

"Well?" Draco asked impatiently. Potter took a breath.

"I saw what happened earlier. At dinner," he said hesitantly. Draco sighed internally. _'Of course.'_

"Ah, I see. Did you draw the short straw or something?" Potter looked confused, an expression his face was apparently very familiar with.

"What?"

"Well I'm assuming the reason you're here is to find out if whatever the latest rumours that are floating around about me are true," Draco said bitterly.

"What? No! Nobody asked me to come and talk to you."

"Then what the hell are you still doing here? Go away!"

"You know, you're not making this very easy Malfoy," Potter said.

"_What?" Draco said incredulously. "What do you mean _easy_? Look Potter, I really don't have the patience for this so let's just pretend you laughed at me because I have no friends, and said it was my own fault, and then I completely deflated you're joy at seeing me like this with some witty remark about your family and/or friends. OK?" Having said that Draco turned away and hoped against hope that Potter would just leave._

"Look," _'No such luck then,' Draco thought glumly. "I didn't come here to laugh at you," Potter said._

"Well go on then, out with it," Draco snapped, making it clear that he wished he wouldn't.

"I just wanted to know if you were OK." Draco turned around slowly and openly gaped at him. Potter shifted uncomfortably, but returned the gaze unwaveringly. 

"Excuse me, I think I'm starting to hear things. You want to know what?"

"It's just that I can see you're not doing so well, even though nobody else seems to see it, and I just wondered-"

"Have you started some kind of Gryffindor outreach programme or something?" 

"No, I-"

"Or is this some cunning Gryffindor plan to confuse me to death?"

"No!"

"Then just leave me alone Potter. Save your bleeding heart for someone who gives a damn," Draco snapped, and practically fled from the room.

*

"He tried to talk to me a couple of times after that, and eventually I just gave in and listened to him," Draco said, shifting in his chair. The chains that held him there were beginning to dig into his wrists.

"Why?" Fudge was clearly confused and Draco wasn't surprised. It made no sense that two people who had been so openly hostile towards each would suddenly strike up some form of friendship out of nowhere.

"I was lonely, though I didn't want to admit it. I certainly never told _him that. And there was something different about Harry. He made me laugh. He's kind of infectious like that. He has this innocent, carefree air to him…I mean had…he had…" his voice trailed off again._

*

Another night found Draco standing once more by the lake, smoking and thinking; a solitary figure with the lonely, infinite stars as a backdrop. This time, his thoughts were centred on a single person: Harry Potter. The person he'd thought would be least likely to care about what was happening to him. But then, had Potter even crossed his mind lately? He inhaled deeply, watching the end of his cigarette flare and then dull once more. He looked away but the after-image was still imprinted on his eyes. He sighed and sank to the ground, curling his legs under him. If he was being honest with himself, he would almost think that he had enjoyed talking to Potter the last couple of days. After weeks of nothing but glares and sarcastic comments from everyone around him, it was nice to be treated like a human again. However, he was troubled by the question of why Potter would even _want_ to talk to him. His suspicious mind began trawling over every possible reason, and he could only come to one conclusion: Potter wanted something from him. But what?

Draco had always thought that Potter was such a simple person. He existed from day to day, protecting the weak and innocent, fighting evil, being all brave and Gryffindor-ish. Just the thought made Draco cringe and shudder to his Slytherin core. He thought about the person he'd seen Potter grow into: an angry, brooding young man who was being twisted up inside by his bitterness. In their previous year of school, Draco had watched Potter sink to new lows, and he'd revelled in it. He'd found a sick sort of justification in the fact that Potter was finally being punished for trusting people so blindly. He was so stupid, always expecting to be looked after and molly-coddled by Dumbledore. Watching Potter's pain, he'd found vindication for his own life choices. He trusted no-one, believed nothing, and valued nothing above his own life.

However, as Draco looked closer at his memories, he found that his mental image of Potter was incongruous with what he saw now. Potter had changed under his very nose and he hadn't noticed. Images of him flashed faster and faster through his mind, warring with the ingrained picture of him he'd built up over the years. Potter now walked with his head held high, a smile on his lips and a playful look in his eyes. He was still the reckless idiot he'd always been; was still sickeningly good and self-righteous, but he seemed lighter, less weighed down by self-inflicted woes. With a start, Draco realised that it was peace he saw in Potter; peace of mind.

He stood, stretching out the numbness in his legs and thinking vaguely that he'd been outside too long. It was becoming too cold for these night-time strolls as October melted into November. He was still no closer to working out what it was that Potter wanted from him, but he didn't think it could hurt to find out. His curiosity had always been his downfall.

He left the lake and re-entered the school, feeling slightly lighter himself, as though he'd deposited some of his troubles at the lakeside and had watched them slowly disintegrate.

*

A/N: ARGH!! I've been bitten by the writer's block bug! Or something like that anyway…Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate it, and surprisingly being begged to update actually spurred me on, ever so slightly :)

**J'ashlei: **the flashbacks are just a twist on the normal format of fanfics, I just wanted to do it a bit differently. I'm glad you like it!

**Shelli:** ah, it won't all be angsty for poor little Draco, I couldn't have him being miserable ALL the time!

**Ruella:** thank you! That's a huge compliment. 

**Artemis Astralstar:** you actually printed it out?! Wow! It was just something I wrote whilst inspired by a fic I'd read and I wanted to find some way of fitting it into this.

**Ning: **So you finally decided to review something of mine? About bloody time! :) Just for you, the whole thing won't be miserable

**MalfoySexSlave17:** Urm, wrote more! Happy?

**ACDC4913:** all will be revealed…eventually!


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, I'm just playing with them for a while. I only own the plot, such as it is :)

**RATING:** R, for language and sexual situations, this might change at some point but probably not because I know how you all love a bit of dirtiness!

**WARNING: **This fic contains slash or homosexual references, if this offends you, please do not read any further.

**IMPORTANT A/N**: Just for clarification, as you can tell I'm jumping between time-frames a lot, but don't assume that Draco is telling Fudge everything you read about the past. It's more that these are Draco's memories of what has turned into an extremely important time of his life. He doesn't explain everything in detail, but the events explain what he is telling Fudge. Just didn't want to confuse you!

On to wet, naked Draco…mmmmmmmmmmm heh heh heh

_I could use a fresh beginning too,_

_All of my regrets are nothing new._

**Switchfoot – Learning to Breathe**

The Potions classroom was icy-cold this morning. It was mid-November and the days were short and cold and dry, and the coldest place in the castle was the dungeons. Draco entered the classroom early with his head down, wishing that he was still in bed. He sighed with relief when he noticed that he was the first person to arrive. Moving quickly to a desk near the back, he sat down and began to unpack his things. Other students began to trudge into the room; he tried to ignore the blatant glaring from the Slytherins, feigning indifference, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. 

Then, Potter entered, laughing at something Weasley had said, and immediately caught Draco's eye. Potter has an interesting laugh; it lands half-way between a light chuckle and an all-out belly laugh. Draco was entranced almost, by the carefree way that Potter walked and the simplicity to him. He seemed so natural and honest, and Draco found it almost painful to see how every thought the boy had was painted on his face. He looked away, not wanting to be caught staring, but he found he had nowhere else to look; every other person his eyes landed on would look at him with a look of either hate or repugnance. It felt like daggers being repeatedly stabbed into every inch of his body.

Snape entered the classroom, robes billowing, and Draco let his eyes fall to his hands which were folded neatly in front of him.

"Malfoy," a voice hissed from behind him as soon as Snape turned to write the ingredients for a mild levitation potion on the blackboard. Draco turned quickly, startled, and found a pair of deep green eyes very close to his. Potter was leaning over his desk which was directly behind Draco's, with a mischievous grin on his face.

"What?" Draco whispered back. Harry leaned closer, attempting, and failing, to be surreptitious. The Weasel was giving them extremely odd looks, but Potter didn't seem to notice. Either that or he didn't care.

"What're you doing tonight?" Draco paused for a second, before raising an eyebrow.

"Let's see, I'll have to just check my social calendar…well, oh look, _nothing you idiot!" Potter's grin widened and he ignored the sarcasm._

"Good!" he said briskly. "Meet me in the entrance hall at 10:30 tonight. Make sure nobody sees you." With that said, he slid back into his chair and turned to talk to Granger.

"What? Why-" but he couldn't ask because Snape had cleared his throat and begun the lesson. Draco let his teacher's voice flow over him as he began to wonder what Potter could possibly have planned. He found that he was smiling secretly to himself as he thought that anything would be better than moping around in his room again.

*

It was pitch black as Draco made his way stealthily towards the entrance hall. Having recently given up his position as prefect, he now had no excuse to be wandering the halls after hours and losing house points was the last thing he needed right now; he needed to be careful. He had spent hours debating whether or not he should go, it was against his better judgement; why should he even trust Potter? But something he didn't really want to acknowledge had him wondering the halls that night; he was afraid that it was hope. 

There was no-one there when he arrived so he hid in the shadows, resolved to wait only for ten minutes. He didn't have to wait longer than five.

He heard voices approaching from the staircase he knew led to the Gryffindor dorms, and slunk further into the shadows. He saw the silhouettes of Potter, Weasley, Finnegan, Thomas and Longbottom appear. They seemed to be arguing about something.

"Really Harry, who've you told? You know this was supposed to be a secret," came Finnegan's voice.

"Oh right," Potter said sarcastically, "and you kept it quiet from Terry Boot and all the other Ravenclaws you were boasting to?"

"Well it's not as though he actually _invited_ them," Thomas muttered. Draco felt his heart begin to sink. Maybe this hadn't been the best of ideas.

"Where is he anyway?" Weasley asked quietly.

"I dunno," Potter said uncertainly. "I told him to meet us here." Draco took this as his cue to appear, and he stepped slowly from his hiding place into the moonlight.

*

"So how was this friendship between you and Mr Potter solidified?" Fudge asked curtly. Draco smirked, imagining what thoughts were going through Fudge's mind and thinking that he probably wasn't even close.

"Nothing was ever _solidified_, as you put it. At the beginning, it was just something that had potential."

"And after that?"

"It was something that reached its potential."

*

The Gryffindors froze as soon as they saw him; only Potter smiled. Draco thought he looked almost relieved, or maybe vindicated was a better word for the look on his face.

"Ah shit, what are you doing skulking around here Malfoy?" Weasley hissed.

"I could ask you the same thing," Draco said smoothly, moving further out of the shadows.

"Well from what I hear," Weasley said, a nasty smile spreading across his face, "you no longer have the right to ask me that." Draco was about to retort when Potter approached him, still smiling.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," he said quietly. Draco smiled, before catching himself and rearranging his features.

"Well," he said, attempting to appear casual, "I didn't have much else on, and I must say you definitely piqued my interest."

The other boys were staring at them as though they were insane. Weasley, the first to full understand, grabbed onto Potter's arm and yanked him backwards.

"I don't suppose you'd like to explain this?" he asked, trying and singularly failing to keep his voice steady.

"Well, I invited him," Potter said, a bright and hopeful grin pasted on his face.

"Him? The _Ferret?! This is who you invited?"_

"Shush Ron," Potter said, his smile fading quickly, "you're making too much noise. You don't want us to get caught do you?" Weasley didn't seem to register his words.

"You…you…_why?" he spluttered, almost incoherent._

"Because I wanted to. Live with it Ron, he's coming," Potter stated firmly. Draco allowed himself to smile smugly. "Do the rest of you have a problem with this?" Potter challenged the others with a glare. They clearly had a rather large problem with it, but decided against saying anything.

"Good. Let's go."

Weasley joined the other Gryffindors as they walked outside, and Draco fell into step next to Potter. As the cold air hit his face, Draco looked around and suppressed a gasp. Sometime during the evening, the first snow had fallen and the Hogwarts grounds were now cloaked in a blanket of soft, unbroken white. Moonlight glistened off of millions of snowflakes, creating the special brand of magic that belonged solely to nature. Draco had never quite gotten used to how Hogwarts looked in winter.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Potter said softly, looking around him.

"Yes," Draco breathed, and then, remembering who he was with, added in a much harsher voice, "if you like that kind of thing." Potter chuckled lightly. 

"You don't fool me Malfoy."

Draco chose to ignore this and they carried on walking. It was then that Draco noticed that Potter was holding something under his arm.

"So what are we doing out here Potter?"

"Oh yeah, I nearly forgot. Here, this is for you." Potter thrust whatever he'd been holding into Draco's hands. "Forgot to tell you to bring one." Draco looked at what he was now holding.

"A towel? What do I need a towel for?"

"We're going swimming in the lake," Potter said. Draco stopped walking abruptly.

"What?"

"You heard."

"But Potter, it's November! It just snowed! We'll freeze to death!" Draco tried to sound reasonable, but a hint of fear crept into his voice.

"No, we won't. Trust me." Draco frowned.

"I don't have anything to swim in!"

"You won't need anything."

"You're insane," Draco muttered sullenly.

"Well what does that make you for being here?"

"Stupid. Very, very stupid," Draco said simply. Potter laughed loudly this time, making the other Gryffindors look back at them with confusion. Draco really didn't blame them.

"Come on. Hurry up and all will be revealed." With that, Potter jogged to where his friends had stopped at the lakeside. Draco sighed and followed at a more leisurely pace, wondering for the fiftieth time what he was doing outside at this time of night, with a bunch of _Gryffindors_ no less.

The five Gryffindors had all dropped their towels to the ground and were standing in a line at the bank by the time Draco reached them. They all held their wands out and appeared uncertain as to how to proceed. They were still giving him extremely suspicious looks, and Draco snorted.

"OK," he said, breaking the silence. "So, who's going to tell me what we're doing here?"

"We've learnt a new spell," Potter said, apparently he was the only one willing to talk to Draco. "It's a variation on a warming spell."

"You're not telling me you're going to try to artificially heat the entire lake?" Draco sneered incredulously. "That's impossible! It's too big!"

"Not the whole lake," Weasley snapped, "just part of it." Draco didn't know what to say. _'How the hell do you do that?'_ he thought.

"Just watch," Potter said quietly, raising his wand. The others followed suit.

"Urm, have you ever actually done this before?" Draco asked hesitantly.

"Nope," Finnegan said. "We've been working on it for years. This is the first time we've actually tried to do it. It was _supposed_ to be a secret." He gave Potter a pointed look, who completely ignored him. Draco decided at that point that it would be prudent to take a rather large step backwards away from the water.

"Let's get on with it, I'm freezing." Potter closed his eyes briefly, then opened then again and stared across the lake.

"Heat," he said.

"Fire," said Weasley.

"Warmth," said Finnegan.

"Blaze," said Thomas.

"Burn," said Longbottom.

In unison they said,

"Partitia incendia augmentus." Orange light burst forth from each wand, bathing them in warm light. Each beam hit the icy water and seemed to be soaked into the darkness of its depths; Draco had to peer around from behind Potter to see what was going on. As the spell was completed the light faded and Draco felt more aware of the bitter coldness that surrounded him without it.

"Well?" Longbottom asked eagerly. "Did it work?" He leaned forwards, closer towards the water, as if he would be able to see a difference.

"Only one way to find out!" Finnegan announced, and promptly pushed him in. Longbottom fell headfirst, fully clothed, into the water. He surfaced, spluttering and waving his arms about.

"You idiot! I've still got all my clothes on!" he yelled at Finnegan, who was currently rolling around in the snow in fits of giggles.

"Well?" Thomas asked eagerly. "Did it work?"

"It's a bit cold further down, but near the surface…it's wonderful." All of the boys grinned and laughed and began stripping their clothes off. 

Draco held back, suddenly unsure of himself.

"Malfoy?" Potter approached him. "Are you coming in?" Draco looked at him for a long moment, wondering exactly what Potter was trying to achieve by showing him this; this most private moment he was sharing with his closest friends. What was the point of this? As Draco felt a shiver run through him, he decided he didn't really care because he was too cold.

"Naturally," he said smoothly. Potter smiled; that same smile Draco had noticed earlier, as though he was pleased and had been proved right in some way.

Draco peeled his clothes away easily, shivering as the frigid air hit his bare skin. The other boys had run yelling and screeching into the water, clearly uninhibited by their nakedness, and Draco tried to show the same openness as them, by walking slowly and surely into the depths of the surprisingly warm water until it covered him to his waist.

He immediately looked for where Potter was, and saw him dunking Weasley's head into the water, laughing wildly. He took a moment to inspect Potter's body, as the boy played with his friends. He had the slightly awkward look to him of someone who had grown a lot in a very short space of time; almost as though he'd been stretched a bit too far. He was thin, but not horribly so; the term slender came to mind. He had slight tan marks on his arms and neck, which Draco noticed contrasted starkly with the overall paleness of his own skin, which never tanned, only burnt painfully and therefore made him shy away from the sun. Draco could understand why Potter had no qualms about frolicking naked in the water; he was an interesting specimen, Longbottom on the other hand…He had every right to show the slight insecurities about his body that he clearly had.

Draco was very aware of how awkward his presence could make this, especially if he reacted to it in the way he was expected. He considered this, thought about reverting to his usual taunts which, in his mind, _never got boring or repetitive, but found that it seemed inappropriate here. Instead, he decided to accept this opportunity that Potter had offered him in the spirit he considered it was probably intended. He took this as a chance to relax; to forget, if even briefly, that everybody hated him and that he'd driven everyone who could conceivably care about his well-being, away. He lay back in the water, letting it buoy him up as he floated languorously on his back. He let the water flow into his ears, so that the sounds of the Gryffindors were muffled, and closed his eyes. He allowed his mind to float away from Hogwarts, away from his father and away from magic._

He was therefore completely unprepared for the wholly unprovoked attack on his being that was Potter pushing his head under the water and upsetting his balance. He rose from the water, blond hair partially blocking his view as it flopped into his eyes, to find an almost hysterically laughing Potter in front of him.

"Oh so you think that was funny do you?" he growled.

"A bit, but the expression on your face is priceless!" Potter managed to choke out. Draco fought a smile as he launched himself at him, managing to thoroughly dunk Potter before he wrenched away, spluttering and giggling like a girl.

"Ha!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "Got you back!"

"Only cos I let you!" Potter called as he moved away back to his friends, continuing to giggle. Draco scowled, then resumed his floating. It was a very surreal feeling, to see his breath ghosting into the air, knowing that he was surrounded by ice and snow, whilst swimming in pleasantly tepid water. It was strangely liberating. A few minutes later however, he felt the water around him growing considerably colder, and he realised he must have reached the limits of the spell. With a sigh he lifted his head and turned to make his way back to the edge. 

It was at this point that he realised that there was considerably less hilarity amongst Potter's friends than before. Potter and Weasley seemed to be arguing heatedly about something, and the others were backing away from them, looking concerned and occasionally sending Draco spiteful looks.

"You have no idea what's happened Harry!" Weasley's voice carried over to where Draco was.

"Well neither do you!" Potter almost yelled, before catching himself.

"I just want to know why he's here."

"I felt sorry for him OK? Isn't that enough?" Potter snapped and then made his way over to where Draco was treading water, glaring. "What?" he asked irritably.

"You felt _sorry for me Potter? __You felt sorry for __me?" Draco asked incredulously, suddenly feeling very foolish for being there._

"No, well, a bit," Potter admitted.

"I don't need your pity," Draco said scathingly and turned to leave.

"No, wait. I don't want you to go." Draco turned back to face him, and looked at Potter. His hair was plastered to his head and his smooth, tanned chest was rising and falling quickly with every breath. There was an innate imperfection to Potter, as though all the right ingredients were there, but they'd just been mixed in the wrong order. Draco found that he was staring again. He watched goosebumps start to rise on the skin that was exposed to the air, and began to shiver himself as he became uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was naked.

"What am I doing here Potter?" he asked quietly, for some reason not wanting to be overheard. He vaguely registered the sounds of other people behind him; laughter and the occasional loud splash, but it ceased to really mean anything.

"I asked you to come," Potter said simply, avoiding Draco's eyes. This made him suspicious.

"Yes, and I want to know why. You sought me out, pestered me to talk to you, and now you brought me out here to witness, what? What is this?"

"It's…" Potter finally raised his eyes to Draco's and smiled sheepishly. "It's an offering."

"An offering?"

"Yep. Yes. That's exactly what it is." Potter seemed to be warming up to the idea.

"Potter? Are you…are you asking to be my friend?" Something had finally clicked in Draco's mind. All of this, being brought out here to see this new and special event; Potter really had the subtlety of a brick. Draco conveniently ignored the voice in his head which pointed out that it really shouldn't have taken him so long to work it out.

"No," Potter said, slightly too quickly. "It's more that I'm asking you to think about the possibility of possibly…learning to tolerate each other?" Draco stared at him for a long time, considering. Then he tilted his head and smirked,

"Nicely put Potter." They stared at each other, assessing, and Draco finally felt the world come back into focus around him.

"Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"I think the spell's wearing off."

"Yeah, so do I."

*

They walked back in relative silence. Weasley didn't appear to be talking to Potter, and the other Gryffindors seemed to think that he was vindicated in this. Potter didn't appear to notice, as he walked beside Draco again. 

As they re-entered the entrance hall, Draco handed back the towel that Potter had leant him. He'd refrained from complaining about the fact that it was red and gold. They hung back from the others, momentarily feeling awkward. 

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow Malfoy?"

"Yes," Draco said, "you will." Potter looked at him briefly, and ventured a nervous smile, Draco raised an eyebrow and merely smirked. They turned to leave in opposite directions. Draco watched Potter rejoin his friends, who were being extremely cold towards him, and was struck by the enormity of what Potter had done that evening; of what it must have taken for Potter to invite him.

"Potter?" he called out. He turned quickly, a puzzled look on his face.

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

*

Fudge checked his watch and sighed.

"The veritaserum will be beginning to wear off now. I suggest we have a break for lunch before continuing."

With that, the chains binding Draco fell away and he was ushered firmly from the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Granger gently restraining Weasley who had risen from his seat and was straining to run to the front. Tears of anger were spilling from his eyes.

*

Draco was deposited in a small, square room with no windows and barely any light by his guards a few minutes later. There was a solitary chair and a desk in the middle of it. He sat on the table, resting his feet on the chair, and sighed, looking gloomily around him. He absent-mindedly reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. One of the few small pleasures he was not forbidden from these days. He was very tired, and it was only lunchtime. He hadn't even got to the hard part of his story yet. He inhaled deeply and sighed, exhaling a long plume of smoke.

Draco wasn't left alone with his thoughts for very long, as Snape stomped grumpily into the room and slammed the door.

"Oh, do come in," Draco muttered sarcastically.

"Good afternoon Draco. How are you?" Snape asked briskly.

"Just fabulous professor. Fabulous." Snape began to pace the room slowly without saying anything else.

"Was there something you wanted professor?" Draco asked tiredly. "Because if it wasn't anything specific I'd rather appreciate it if-"

"Damn it Draco! How can you be so flippant?" Snape snapped. Draco was slightly taken aback by the ferocity in his voice.

"Well, I, well, do you have any _particular_ suggestions for how I should be acting?"

"You should at least show some kind of remorse! It looks as though you're just begging to be locked away for the rest of your life out there! Is that what you want?" Draco stared at his teacher, willing himself to think up a smart answer which would help him to avoid the question, but he couldn't.

"Yes," he said quietly. "It's no more than I deserve." Snape stopped pacing abruptly and came to stand in front of Draco. He placed his hands on Draco's shoulders, who looked up with a pitiful expression.

"Draco," Snape began, "you're not a murderer; at least not the cold-blooded killer they're trying to make you out to be. What happened?"

"Sir, the evidence is pretty conclusive isn't it? I was the only one left standing, with three bodies nearby and only one of them was breathing! _My fingerprints, spells cast from __my wand…blood on _my_ hands," Draco finished faintly._

"Draco? _Draco?" Snape sounded worried and he shook him slightly. "Why won't you tell me?" Draco shrugged Snape's hands off and stood. He took another deep drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly._

"He ruined me professor. It doesn't matter what really happened."

"What do you mean, 'what really happened'? Draco? What aren't you telling me?" Snape appeared beyond worried, he was almost pleading. Draco turned cold eyes toward his teacher.

"Nothing matters. He's ruined me for everyone else, and now he's gone."

"He's not dead Draco," Snape said softly. Draco gave a plaintive sigh.

"But as good as. And I did that. _I did that_!"

"Yes, you did." Snape stood for a moment longer and then appeared to give up; turning to leave. His hand was on the door-knob when Draco said,

"I need your help."

"What?" Snape asked warily.

"They're going to lock me up and throw away the key when I've finished here." Draco was talking quickly and Snape opened his mouth as though to interrupt. Draco held up his hand to stop him and carried on. "I need to see him one last time."

"Draco-"

"Please. Just once." Draco was not beneath begging now.

"What's the point? He won't know you're there."

"Maybe not, but I will." Snape hesitated, then sighed heavily.

"I'll see what I can do. I think Dumbledore is sympathetic for some unknown reason, he may have some sway. But you did try to kill the boy."

"He's not a boy," Draco said softly.

"What? You saw to that too?" Snape said without thinking.

"One of these days, you'll be so sharp with one of those comebacks you'll cut yourself," Draco said, smiling wanly. 

"Maybe," Snape chuckled, noticing the lack of a proper answer, but not wanting to press.

"Thank you," Draco said sincerely.

*

A/N: well there was the next chapter, long wasn't it? I keep forgetting to mention it, but if anyone wants to read a really good book, you should read 'At Swim, Two Boys' by Jamie O'Neill. It's heart-breakingly tragic at the end but it's a fabulous read.

What did you think? Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, I'm just playing with them for a while. I only own the plot, such as it is :)

**RATING:** R, for language and sexual situations, this might change at some point but probably not because I know how you all love a bit of dirtiness!

**WARNING: **This fic contains slash or homosexual references, if this offends you, please do not read any further.

_Your face it haunts_

_My once pleasant dreams._

_Your voice it chased away_

_All of the sanity in me._

**Evanescence – My Immortal**

Draco pulled a face as another vial of veritaserum was brought forwards. He scowled darkly as he felt the liquid run down his throat, leaving an unpleasant stickiness.

Fudge was staring at him, obviously expecting him to start from where he'd left off. He sighed heavily; it was only going to get more difficult, but he'd expected this, he was _prepared. He had to do this, or everything else, everything that had happened that year with Harry and every decision he had made, was completely meaningless._

He cleared his throat and began again.

"I found it very difficult to be around Harry at first. I'd hated him for so long, it was almost like a habit; a drug maybe. At times I found myself almost _forcing him to argue with me, just to regain some sense of normality."_

*

"I hope you didn't have too much trouble with Weasley about the other day."

"Now do you actually care whether Ron's pissed off with me or not?"

"Not really, I was just being polite. I have absolutely no idea why you want to be friends with such an irritating plebe like him."

"You know, he said almost exactly the same thing to me this morning! Except not quite so verbose." Draco pulled a face but said nothing. "Has anyone ever told you that you're overly verbose? I mean, it's one thing having a good vocabulary, but you take it to a whole new level!"

"Well I'm sorry if my superior skills at using the English language get to you, but I'm not responsible for your inferiority complexes." Potter merely laughed.

"I wasn't trying to be funny," Draco said seriously, slightly disgruntled that he was being laughed at.

"I know! That's what makes it even funnier!"

They were walking outside in the early evening light, plodding through the snow towards the Quidditch pitch. They each held a broomstick and were wearing their thick training robes. The annual Slytherin – Gryffindor match was in just over a month and Draco felt a kind of morbid excitement at the thought. If not for the fact that he would be facing Potter on almost completely new terms, then for the fact that he would be fighting against his team-mates as much as he was for. He had no idea why he was still on the team and tried not to think about it too much. He would have liked to have believed that it was because his skills as a seeker far surpassed anyone else in his house, but a more fatalistic part of him considered that it may be the fact that his former friends would get far too much pleasure out of seeing him fail against Potter to take him off the team. He was being ridiculous and he knew it, but he couldn't seem to help it.

It was a very odd sensation, going out to practise Quidditch with Potter, and he wasn't quite sure if it was pleasant or not. He'd decided that, if anything, it would be a learning experience; an opportunity to study in depth how Potter practised, how he rehearsed each move, whether he was meticulous or careless in his learning.

Potter was the first to get on his broom and take off, and Draco paused to examine his style. When he first took off, there was always that moment of doubt in the observer's mind, as to whether he would actually stay there and would not come crashing back down. Until that exquisite moment when Potter seemed to gain complete control; where in a moment he seemed to become intricately aware of his surroundings and the part he played in them, and then he appeared to just _melt into one being with his broomstick, as though he'd just worked out how to use his other arm. Draco considered Potter to be an extremely graceful flyer, not the practised ease of his own flying, but a kind of natural grace that could never be learnt. It was rustic and rough, but at the same time showed a poise and elegance which never seemed to follow the boy once his feet hit the ground again._

It made Draco extremely jealous.

He remembered the tortuous hours spent training at Malfoy Manor. He'd had his first lesson when he was seven. He'd been begging his father for a broom for months and finally, Lucius had given in, but not before making Draco promise that he would apply himself seriously to studying the art of flying. Draco had readily agreed without really listening to his father words. He didn't care; he was getting his first broomstick! The following day, his father had taken him into the library and placed numerous thick tomes in front of him, saying that he could get on a broom once he had read every word and understood how to execute each move. Draco remembered staring unbelievingly at his father's retreating back as he was left alone amongst the dusty books, before turning back to begin what seemed to be an almost impossible task for a seven year old. For days, he spent hours in the library, studying, until he was finally able to announce proudly to his father that he understood the mechanics of every standard Quidditch move. Lucius had looked sceptical, but shrugged his shoulders.

"Fine," he'd said, before walking outside. When Draco followed him, he found Lucius standing in the sunshine, holding out a shining new broom to Draco.

"Show me," he'd said, in that same soft tone. Draco had confidently taken the broom, his heart leaping for joy at the feel of his new broom in his hand. Lucius had taken a step backwards as Draco had straddled the stick. He pushed off the ground and, for the first time, felt the bottom drop out of his stomach and the wind roar in his ears as his rose far above the ground. 

However, it had quickly become painfully clear to Draco that reading about flying, and actually flying, were two very different things. His broom had lurched violently and he'd immediately lost balance, his fingers slipped forwards and he fell sideways, plunging to the ground below where his father stood. He'd landed awkwardly, his leg crumpled underneath him and clearly broken. His father had leant over him, his shadow blocking out the sun, and had said,

"That's why I didn't want you to start yet." He'd then turned on his heel and gone back inside. Draco hadn't had the courage to get on a broomstick again for a year.

With a slight scowl, Draco released the snitch, then pushed down with his feet and took off into the air, a bitter wind chafing his cheeks and lips. Barely a word was spoken between them for over an hour; a tacit knowledge between seekers that no communication was needed but the dip of a broom, a quick glance or the toss of a head. They dived and looped and circled each other as they sought, time after time, for the glittering, golden snitch. It was strange however, that neither seemed inclined to actually capture it. Time and again it appeared, and they would race, elbowing each other, urging each other on, flying so close that their knees were knocking, but then, at the final minute, one would slow or swerve erratically, momentarily putting the other off, and the chance would be gone. Neither wanted to be the victor; every opportunity to end the lesson seemed too soon.

Darkness fell and still they hadn't caught the snitch. Draco flew over to where Potter was idly circling, and sighed.

"There's not much point anymore is there? We'll never find it now."

"No, I suppose not." Potter's sigh joined Draco's in the ether. Draco summoned the snitch and it flew neatly into his palm.

"Hmm, first time I've caught the snitch when you're around," he said, in a not altogether pleasant tone. They floated aimlessly for a few minutes, neither willing to be the first to speak again.

"We should go somewhere," Potter finally said.

"What, now?" Draco asked, surprised. "It's dark Potter, we should go back inside. Besides, I've got homework to do." Potter frowned deeply; obviously chagrined by the fact that Draco was being sensible.

"Don't you ever just do anything on impulse Draco?" Draco jerked at the use of his first name, thinking that it didn't sound quite right coming from Potter, and wondered if it was deliberate. Potter, for his part, didn't seem to have noticed.

"Not really, no," he answered primly. "I like to be prepared for every eventuality." In some sad way, this was very true. It probably reflected more on Draco's upbringing than his actual personality, that in every aspect of his life, he planned meticulously for fear that some unknown factor may creep up and set everything off-key. He was almost pathologically tidy and was slightly over-obsessive about handing in work on time. Potter sighed at his answer, seemingly disappointed for a moment, before a look of determination settled comfortably on his face.

"Well, I don't," he said firmly. With that said, he sped off over the Hogwarts grounds, leaving behind a very perplexed Draco Malfoy.

"Potter? Where're you-" Draco began to yell, before realising that the red and gold blur that was Harry Potter was already well out of hearing range. With a slight shrug, he took off in the same direction.

Draco had thought that, by now, he knew every inch of Hogwarts and its grounds, so it surprised him slightly to realise that he had never thought to investigate what was _behind the castle. Potter obviously had, as he self-assuredly rounded the castle and made a beeline for a large clump of trees in the distance. Draco had now caught up to Potter, who had slowed somewhat, but was uncertain as to whether he should actually say anything. He took another look at the expression on Potter's face, and decided to keep his mouth shut and just wait to find out what he was being shown._

Out, far beyond the castle now, over and past the trees, and Draco saw, nestled comfortably between hedgerows and thick shrubbery, a single field, dotted with luscious red flowers and patches of long grass. What was wholly remarkable, was that the entire area seemed to have been completely untouched by the snow and frost which had withered all of the surrounding plant-life. 

They touched down and Potter immediately dropped his broom, falling to his knees and then lying back, his face turned up to the stars. Draco stood momentarily, looking down at the boy, then gently sat next to where he was lying, crossing his legs.

"How long have you known this place was here?" he asked quietly, still unsure of the need for his words. They seemed to coarsen this place. Long grass tickled his knees and back, even his neck as he leant his head back briefly to gaze at the sky.

"Not so long," Potter murmured, not moving. "Neville told me about it. This is the only spot where these flowers grow for miles around, so Professor Sprout looks after them. There's some spell to keep the snow away." Draco moved slightly to get a closer look at one of the flowers. The blood-red bud bobbed slightly in the wind, and there was a strong odour that he couldn't quite place.

"They're poppies," Potter said; a gentle reminder.

"Ah yes, the poppy. Papaveraceae. More like a weed than anything else in these parts. Extremely useful though, I think Professor Snape uses them for headache potions, and cold cures. It's the seeds you see, very helpful for coughs." Draco stopped talking when he saw the look on Potter's face; slight horror mixed with humour. "What?"

"It's just, well, for a start I think it's scary that you know all that, you seriously need to get out more!" Draco bristled and was about to speak again, when Potter carried on. "And, it's just that, can't you just admire them without analysing?" 

"Well, I suppose on an aesthetic level-"

"No," Potter said, shaking his head and sitting up. "Just _look_ at them." Draco humoured him for a moment, and simply stared at the flower. Deep-red petals, if he was morbid by nature he would have said they were the colour of blood, with spots of black towards the centre that only seemed to highlight the intensity of their colour. There was such a strong smell surrounding the flower; it smelled of every flower combined, but also with something bitter underneath, as though it wasn't really all it appeared to be. He looked back at Potter, who was staring at him as though willing him to have a reaction.

"Potter," Draco began, "it's a flower. I mean, OK it's a nice colour and everything, a bit bloody actually, but it's just a flower." Potter stared at him momentarily, and then grinned.

"I know," he said, "but if you get the right sort, you can make absolutely _mind-_blowing_ drugs!" Draco simply stared as Potter lay back down in the grass, and then he grinned. A laugh escaped him, a small chuckle which slowly built until he was rolling on the floor, clutching at his stomach completely unable to stop. Potter was staring at him as though he'd lost his mind, but Draco didn't care. It felt so __good to be able to laugh like that, after so many months of pain and worry and embarrassment, it seemed like, at that moment, it was the most important thing in the world for him to be doing._

His laughter gradually died away, leaving him feeling strangely contented as he lay next to Potter, silently star-gazing. Potter, on the other hand, didn't seem to be so content with silence.

"So are you ever going to tell me what happened?" Draco was immediately on guard, and hated himself for it.

"What do you mean?" he asked evasively. Potter sighed.

"If you don't want to tell me…" Draco could hear the hope in his voice, the slight lilt to his voice as he let the sentence drift off, and hated the part of him that said this was what Potter had wanted all along; just the latest gossip that he would get thrown back in his face and be ridiculed for. He looked up at Potter, whose eyes continued to stare upwards, and really wished he could trust him. For once, here was a person who appeared to only want to listen to him; who appeared genuinely interested. Just from looking at him, Draco found it almost inconceivable that he had any ulterior motives. But how could he ever be sure? Certainly, it was strange the way Potter had approached him with an offer of friendship; so sudden and out of character. It was strange what they were doing now, sitting alone together, _laughing_. At the same time though, it didn't seem so odd. A lot of things had changed in a very short amount of time for Draco: the loss of his father, his inheritance of the Malfoy name, being ostracised from his friends. Draco was also not so oblivious that he hadn't noticed that there must have been changes for Potter as well, he just didn't know what they'd been. In a way, he thought, maybe, amidst all these changes, it was inevitable that they would be drawn together like this. The past years seemed almost like another life time where he was allowed to waltz through life as though there was nothing wrong with the world and his family life was perfect. Maybe this was just another way for the two of them to move on, further away from a past that was altogether too unpleasant.

"It's OK, I don't mind," Draco said slowly, still unsure. He turned his head away from Potter and focussed on a single star above him. For a moment, he said nothing, just lost himself in the bright point above him, stared until his vision blurred and all he could see was silver.

"My father's in Azkaban," he said, settling vaguely on this starting point, but not sure how far back he was willing to go.

"I know."

"He's there because of you." Draco wasn't sure whether he was trying to sound accusatory, or was just stating a fact. Potter had stiffened and sat up straight, looking down at Draco with suddenly cold eyes.

"No he's not," he said. "He's there because he's weak." It was Draco's turn to sit up as anger coursed through him.

"Don't you _dare insult my father!" It was a reflex reaction really, defending his father that way, but it was what Potter had said more than anything that sparked it. Malfoy's were __never weak._

"Always the same Malfoy," Potter spat. "Clinging on to that ridiculously warped idea that your father's perfect. It's quite pathetic really."

"And what would you know about it?" Draco retorted without thinking. Potter paled, then got to his feet and turned his back.

"What was I thinking? What am I even doing here? Ron was right," he muttered before grabbing his broomstick from the ground. It was that comment, and that alone, that spurred Draco to speak. He never wanted to give Weasley the satisfaction of being right.

"Wait," he said. Potter spun around, eyes flashing, his whole body taut.

"What?" he asked harshly. Draco took a deep breath, barely believing what he was about to say.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"What? I didn't quite catch that." Draco looked up sharply, trying to find some element of mockery, but only saw caution; a guarded expression that unsettled him.

"I'm sorry. That was unnecessary."  Potter gaped at him briefly, before suddenly flopping back to the ground, all tension lost from his frame.

"It's OK. So tell me about it," he said simply.

*

"It was like he'd infected me," Draco said, suddenly animated. "Night after night we'd sneak out of school; sometimes he had to literally drag me out of the library. His influence definitely didn't do anything for my grades, but I didn't seem to mind all that much. I'd never had many close friends you see, and I had no idea what to expect from Harry. He challenged me in every way you can think of, and sometimes he made me want to beat him senseless, but other times, it was so intimate. It was like we shared something that no-one could take away from us because nobody could touch it. I suppose that's what friendship is really, isn't it?"

The room was silent as they listened to this eloquent, clearly highly intelligent young man, speak. His face shining with a raw emotion that couldn't quite be placed, as he spoke about friendship and closeness and intimacy. It seemed almost impossible that someone this tender, could also be so brutal. The image was incongruous with what they already knew. It was like watching a tragedy unfold before their very eyes, and every person was captivated; waiting for some explanation that could possibly make sense.

*

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, tell me what you thought! I've been taking my time over each one, but just think, the longer I take, the better it'll eventually be! 

**Artemis Astralstar: **I know, isn't Harry a complete sweetie? I'm really glad you liked it enough to put on your favourites!

**Covetous creature:** I'm glad you're confused! That means I'm getting it right! Don't worry, all will be revealed.

**Jennifer:** Writing as fast as I can! Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging on for months on end, I promise! (maybe weeks though)

**Rockstar**** girlfriend: would you hold it against me if I said no to that? :) **

**Ruella****: so you liked it then? :) I've been working hard to get a particular tone and feel to this, and from the way you described it, it sounds as though I'm getting it right! It didn't want it to be overly depressing, but to have the budding friendship between the two always overshadowed by something darker. I hope you liked this chapter just as much!**

**Curious Dream Weaver:** Thank you!!

**Shelli****: I do think Draco is definitely going to have to see Harry, fear not!**

**GaBrIeLa2: **you'll find out eventually! You'll just have to keep reading :)

**Ningchan****: writyness? You do realise that's not a word right? It wasn't _that_ depressing! Will you never be satisfied unless I have them frolicking naked through fields of corn? Hmm, actually… :) thank you for the review sweetie.**

Reviews are always welcome!


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, I'm just playing with them for a while. I only own the plot, such as it is :)

**RATING:** R, for language and sexual situations, this might change at some point but probably not because I know how you all love a bit of dirtiness!

**WARNING: **This fic contains slash or homosexual references, if this offends you, please do not read any further.

**A/N: **Wow! Thank you to everyone who reviewed! It means a lot to know that you're all enjoying this fic so much. Thanks to everyone who reviewed my one-shot 'The Letter' as well. I did write a happier ending for it, but I kind of liked the angsty one to be honest!

_I want to heal_

_I want to feel_

_Like I'm close to something real_

_I want to find something I've wanted all along_

_Somewhere I belong._

**Linkin**** Park – Somewhere I Belong**

It was lunchtime in the Great Hall, and Draco had a plan. He sat quietly, concentrating on not eating too quickly, and tried not to grin. His plan was stupid, irresponsible, badly planned, but simple. It couldn't fail. He glanced quickly over at the Gryffindor table where Potter and his friends had just arrived. Granger was talking animatedly about something, waving her arms around to demonstrate her point. Weasley had to keep ducking.

For a moment, Draco felt a stab of something akin to jealousy as he watched them. They would always be better friends to Potter; they had more in common with him, were friendlier, _nicer. The three of them shared an unbreakable bond of friendship, born from experiences, hardships, and pain shared. It was something that he couldn't possibly match._

Then, Draco remembered all of the time he'd spent with Potter over the past few weeks, and his insecurities faded slightly. Not one of those times had Potter brought Weasley or Granger with him. It troubled Draco slightly that this made him feel special. He was all too aware of the advantage Potter had over him; Draco had been terribly lonely without his Slytherin friends, and Potter had seen this and swooped in to save him as though he was some damsel in distress. Now, Draco was afraid that he was becoming dependent on him; dependent on being near him, hearing his voice, on knowing that it was _him Potter had chosen to spend his time with. It was a dangerous position for Draco to be in, because Potter didn't need him in the way that Draco did, but he couldn't seem to help himself._

Draco shook his head, and reminded himself of The Plan. His spirits began to rise again. He finished eating and stood slowly, collecting his things and taking a deep breath. It was time for Phase 1: get Potter.

He sauntered casually over to the Gryffindor table.

"Potter!" Almost the entire table stopped and stared at him. Potter looked up and smiled apprehensively.

"Hi Draco."

"Potter, will you come with me? I've got something to show you." Potter's eyebrows rose, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips. _'Aha! Got your attention then?'_

"Sure," he said brightly, rising from his seat. Weasley was looking between them, slightly confused by the ease with which they were talking to each other. 

"Harry? We've got Divination in five minutes. Do you remember?" he asked uncertainly.

"Sure Ron," Potter said easily. "Don't worry, I'll meet you there." Weasley looked perturbed and slightly hurt, but said nothing more. Draco, whose attention was focussed solely on Potter as he congratulated himself on the successful completion of Phase 1, didn't notice as Granger rose slowly from her seat.

"Harry? Are you sure?" She was looking evenly at Draco, who finally noticed her and returned her gaze. "Do you want us to go with you?"

In Draco's opinion, Potter's reaction was slightly over the top, which led him to think that he might be missing something. He slammed his bag on the table, sending bits of food flying, and glared at her.

"Hermione! We've talked about this. Now just leave us alone!" Potter had raised his voice, and Draco sensed a hush fall over the hall. He began to think that maybe he should have just waited until Potter had left the hall and grabbed him then.

Weasley stood quickly, and took his place next to Granger. 

"Harry, there's no need to talk to her like that. She only has your best interests at heart." His tone was placating, but there was a warning underneath.

"Meddling you mean!" Potter retorted, his hands gripping the straps of his bag convulsively. "How would _she know what's in my 'best interests'?" Potter and Weasley were glowering at each other, but Granger hadn't taken her eyes off of Draco. She leant closer to him, and Draco instinctively leant back, suddenly forcefully reminded of her slapping him two years ago and desperate not to relive the experience._

"I don't trust you," she whispered, her voice level. "I don't know what you think you're doing, or what mind games you're playing, but I want you to stay away from Harry." Draco smirked, then leant back towards her.

"Why Mudblood? Jealous?" She gave him a disgusted look, then turned away. Draco felt a hand on his arm and turned to find Potter next to him. Weasley had re-taken his seat and was looking sullenly into his plate.

"Nice to know I'm welcome wherever I go," Draco said, without a trace of a smile.

"Come on, let's go before we make an even bigger spectacle of ourselves," Potter said quietly.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?"

"Later."

*

They made it as far as the door before they were stopped again. Vince and Greg were blocking their way through. Draco sighed, _'why does everyone have to make this so difficult?'_ He made to push past, but neither of the boys would move. He admitted defeat and stood back, waiting for the inevitable.

"What're you doing with _him Draco?" Greg asked, glaring menacingly._

"None of your damn business," Draco snapped. "Now get out of our way." They were making him edgy.

"No," Vince said stubbornly.

"No?" Draco asked incredulously. "What are you, five?" He heard Potter sniggering behind him. Vince's brow furrowed.

"I don't understand," he said slowly, "why you'd have anything to say to him. You always used to say he was-"

"Yeah, well there always were a lot of things you didn't understand," Draco said, hastily cutting him off. He noticed that Potter had stopped laughing abruptly.

"What did you used to say about me?"

"A lot of things, and most of them true." Draco turned and flashed a bright smile at Potter, who frowned. Draco's smile faded quickly and was replaced by a scowl when he saw who was standing behind Potter.

"Oh for God's sake," he muttered grumpily. "Did you _all_ have to pick today? I didn't even get past Phase 1." Potter gave him an odd look, and then burst into more fits of barely suppressed sniggering.

"Hello Draco," Blaise said smoothly, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling maliciously. Potter's head snapped round at the sound of his voice and glared, all traces of humour lost from his face. "Well it's just one thing after another with you isn't it?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Draco asked warily.

"It seems to be an unfortunate habit of yours, saying one thing then doing another. I seem to remember you having some less than complimentary things to say about Potter here, last time we spoke. And now, here you are, together."

"Yes, well, things change Blaise," Draco snapped sarcastically. "Sometimes our choices are made for us."

"As I remember it Draco, you made your own choice. Regretting it now are you?" Blaise was smirking, and Draco felt the undeniable urge to wipe it from his face. However, he wasn't given the chance because Potter stepped in first. With his hands clenched into fists at his side, he took a step closer to Blaise.

"Go. Away," he said, very quietly. Blaise actually laughed at him.

"Down boy! Draco, call off your pet." Draco grabbed Potter's arm before it could connect with Blaise's face and whirled him around.

"Harry, leave it. Please. You _know_ it's not worth it." Potter stared at Draco for a long time, before relaxing his stance.

"First time you ever called me Harry," he murmured. Draco smiled slightly, and then turned his attention back to Blaise.

"Bugger off Blaise. Can't you tell when you've out-stayed your welcome?" With that he turned and pushed past an unresisting Vince and Greg with Potter following close behind. 

"Finally!" he exclaimed once they'd reached the entrance hall. "I thought we'd _never get out of there!"_

"You're telling me! This had better be good after all that Draco." It was time for the second and final phase of the plan. Simplicity _is_ always best.

"Ah, well, you see, I think you've been an extremely bad influence on me," Draco said seriously.

"What do you mean?"

"Well dragging me out every night when I should be working, taking me out of bounds. I hope you realise the nose-dive my grades have taken in the past month. Anyway, I'm not complaining, much, I actually think you've inspired me." Draco grinned evilly and Potter appeared be slightly scared.

"Urm, inspired you to do what Draco?" he asked hesitantly.

"This afternoon, my dearest Potty, we're skipping class," Draco announced with a flourish. Potter stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing again.

"That's it? We went through all that in there just so you didn't have to skip History of Magic by yourself?"

"Well, technically. Look, you don't want to go to Divination do you?"

"Hell no," Potter said quickly. "Firenze may be better than Trelawney, but not by much! They're both a bit too weird for my liking."

"Well stop laughing then! I thought we could sneak into Hogsmeade and get drunk. Every Hogwarts student has to do that at least once in their school career, I heard that somewhere. Kind of like a rite of passage."

"Oh, I should probably go and tell Ron I'm not coming then, he might worry." Potter turned to go, but Draco pulled him back, putting his hands on his shoulders.

"Potter, I don't think it works if you actually tell people you're going to do it. It's supposed to be spontaneous." Potter raised an eyebrow, an expression he'd blatantly stolen from Draco.

"Spontaneous? You planned this! You had specific phases! Don't think I didn't hear you muttering to yourself." Draco dropped his hands and scowled.

"Shut up. We can't all be Mr Spontaneity."

"Whatever. Ok forget Ron, but I think we should get moving. Everyone else will be coming out of the hall soon."

"Ah yes, I thought this far ahead! Come on, there's a cupboard over here, we should hide." Draco dragged Potter over to the broom cupboard and pushed him inside. Once he'd closed the door, he turned to look at Potter who was sitting on an upturned bucket.

"Now, all we have to do is wait. Shouldn't be long!"

*

"So whilst we're here, all alone, do you want to tell me what that was all about in there?" Draco slid down the wall to sit on the floor, his arms draped over his knees. Potter had taken the only thing to sit on that wasn't the floor.

"Nothing," Potter mumbled, shifting his feet around and refusing to look Draco in the eye. It was very cramped in the cupboard and when Potter stopped moving his feet, his ankle was pressing against Draco's. It felt very comfortable; natural.

"Right," Draco said slowly. Potter sighed and turned his head sideways to look at the wall.

"They don't like me spending so much time with you. They don't trust you." Draco stiffened and shifted his feet away. He'd expected this much. 

"Do you?" he asked, trying to sound neutral. Potter turned his head back to look at him, but didn't say anything. The silence stretched out between them, getting thicker by the second. Draco fidgeted incessantly under Potter's gaze until he couldn't stand it any longer.

"Fine. I understand," he said curtly, beginning to struggle to his feet, fighting the blush that threatened to rise in his cheeks. This was so intensely embarrassing. He knew Potter had no reason to trust him, he'd done nothing that could make up for all he'd said and done, and he didn't want to. He would make no apologies for who he was, not to his housemates and certainly not to Harry Potter. They were so different, but he'd thought…well it didn't matter now.

"No, wait." Potter reached out a hand and touched Draco's knee. Draco immediately returned to the floor, looking up at him. "I _do_ trust you. It's just…"

"It's just what Potter?" Draco asked harshly. He suddenly felt very angry.

"It's just that they brought up some good points. They just made me think more about what we're doing."

"What's there to think about?"

"Well, we're so different you know? For a start, you're a complete dork." Draco let it go, but gave a grinning Potter a warning look. "We think differently Draco. I mean, how can we be friends when we're always going to be at odds with each other? About _everything!"_

"It hasn't come up yet. It's not important."

"But it _is important, and it __will come up one day, probably sooner than either of us want."_

"I'm not going to apologise for who I am."

"I don't want you to."

They lapsed into silence once more. In the background, Draco was aware of the sounds of the rest of the school, students flooding out of the hall as they headed to their afternoon lessons.

"Look, now's not the time for this. I need to have had a _lot_ of alcohol to have this conversation." Potter's face broke into a genuine, if slightly relieved, smile.

"Wish granted! Come on, I know a short cut."

"Why am I not surprised?"

*

They'd reached the third floor and Draco was about to start complaining, when Potter stopped him by holding an arm out at chest level. 

"Shh, listen." Voices came drifting down the corridor and Draco froze.

"Oh shit, it's Snape!" he hissed. "What the hell is he doing up here? He'll kill me if he finds us!"

"You? What about me?" They looked at each other and both silently agreed. _Run. They turned back the way they had come, but the voices were getting closer. It sounded like Snape had an entire class with him. They ran into the nearest empty classroom, slamming the door behind them and laughing wildly. Draco breathed a sigh of relief and felt the urge to scream '__FREEDOM!!' He was regaining his breath when terror struck once more. Snape's voice had stopped outside the door._

"This classroom should be empty. Hodges! Just what do you think you're doing? Come here right now."

Potter looked desperately at Draco and mouthed '_shit!_' Draco looked around wildly and almost jumped for joy with a loud cackle when he saw a handy cupboard in the corner. He dragged Potter inside and slammed the door shut. They both fell to the floor laughing as Snape entered the classroom.

Draco attempted to stifle his laughter by clamping his hand over his mouth. He turned his head, and there was Potter, his smiling face inches away, obviously also having difficulty with controlling his laughter. They shouldn't have been sitting so close. He should have jerked his head away, but he didn't. Potter lifted his eyes slowly to Draco's, all big and wide and sparkling. Draco was suddenly struck by just how green Potter's eyes were; this close to, it was almost frightening. His hand fell from his mouth as his grin faded and they stared at each other, chests rising and falling too quickly, and Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. No thought seemed to go through his head, only a vague uneasiness because he knew he should look away, they should _both look away, but he couldn't bear to just yet._

The sound of Snape's voice broke the spell, and Draco tore his eyes away. He grabbed his wand and muttered a locking spell as Potter moved further away.

"Great, another cupboard," Potter murmured. "Your plans are _so_ well executed Draco."

"Shh!"

"Oh please. _Silencio. There he won't hear us now even if we scream. Well it looks like we're stuck here. Fabulous." Draco glared and turned back to face Potter, who was once again slumped onto the only bucket._

"Oh no you don't," he said, hauling Potter up by the arm and sitting on the bucket. "You got the bucket last time."

*

"God I'm bored. How long have we been in here?"

"Twenty minutes," Draco said, checking his watch.

"I think I would've preferred Divination."

"Shut up."

"So much for rites of passage."

"Shut up."

"I'm still bored."

"You should feel honoured Potter. Not many people get to spend this much quality time with me," Draco said, smiling smugly.

"Shut up."

The cupboard was very small, and it had gotten stuffy extremely quickly. Draco shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh sod it," he said grumpily, before standing up so he could take off his robes and sweater. "Stupid uniform." He sat back down and resumed counting the cracks in the wall that Potter was leaning on.

"I'm still bored."

"Only stupid people with no imagination get bored."

"Are you bored?" Draco glared at Potter and refused to say anything.

"Well pick a topic to talk about then."

"Ok, let's talk about you again," Potter said eagerly.

"As much as I enjoy talking about myself, I think it's your turn."

"Me? What about me? I thought everybody knew everything there was to know about me."

"Ah, not quite. Tell me Potter, who do you fancy?" Potter rolled his eyes, before blushing and looking away.

"Shut up," he mumbled.

"You were the one who was bored! Besides, this could be interesting." Draco allowed himself to grin evilly.

"Alright then, who do _you fancy?" That shut Draco up quickly._

"Fine. No more immaturity." Potter smiled smugly, and then sighed loudly as they lapsed once more into silence.

"We could always talk about sex," Draco suggested hopefully, secretly enjoying the way that that comment made Potter blush even more. "No? Oh well." That seemed to exhaust Draco's conversational topics and, once more, only the sweet sounds of Snape shouting at second years filtered into the cupboard.

*

"What do you do every summer?" Potter sighed and leant his head backwards, closing his eyes and exposing his long neck in a completely vulnerable pose. All Draco would have to do was reach over and squeeze…

"Not a lot, I live with my muggle relatives. They're not particularly nice, and really not worth talking about."

"Sounds like your summers suck more than mine do." Draco had meant it to sound light-hearted, but instead it came out sounding curious.

"You have no idea."

"I always thought you'd spend your summers with Weasley."

"I used to go and visit him, but the last couple of years…well it's been difficult." Draco got the impression that he'd stumbled onto an awkward topic.

"Yes, I suppose it would've been." Draco didn't really want to push Potter any more, but he was intrigued. 

"I think this last summer was the worst though, because of Sirius." The name of his godfather came out merely as a whisper. Draco cursed his curious nature and now found himself hoping that Potter wouldn't say any more. Draco realised that anything he brought up about Harry's life would eventually lead to Voldemort. He'd never thought about it before, but every single aspect of the boy's life had been touched by that man. Nothing was sacred.

*

"Are you afraid of dying?" Potter asked suddenly. His eyes were still closed.

_'Ah, cheerful conversation then?'_ Draco thought glumly. This did not bode well for the rest of the time they had to spend together.

"Can't say I've thought about it much, what with only being sixteen. I take it you have."

"Well of course. More than usual lately," Potter said quietly.

"Really? Come to any conclusions?"

"Yeah, it scares the shit out of me." Draco nearly laughed.

"Understandably. It has that effect on most people."

"No, you don't understand. I'm not scared of dying as such. It's more that I'm scared of dying before I do everything I'm supposed to." Potter stood up, looking like he wanted to pace, before he remembered that he was stuck in a small cupboard and there was nowhere for him to go. He sat down again heavily.

"Everything you're _supposed to?"_

"Yeah, haven't you heard? I'm the wizarding world's only hope. It's my 'destiny'." 

"Well I've been a bit out of the loop recently," Draco said faintly, unable to think of anything properly coherent to say that wouldn't sound trite or cliché. 

For the first time, Draco looked properly at Potter, and saw just how tired he looked.

"Well, there's this prophecy. It's me or Voldemort basically."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I know."

"Not surprised death's been on your mind then."

"Hmm."

Draco didn't think that becoming friends with Potter had changed him at all; he'd consciously tried not to let it, but in that moment he realised just how much it _had changed him. He remembered how scornful he had always been towards anyone who had looked to Potter with some semblance of hope; as though he was the only one who could save them. It had driven him mad, the general attitude that his peers had towards the boy. He'd hated that everything was always about Potter; _he_ was the one everyone looked up to, _he_ was the one to have great things expected of him._

Now, Draco found that his only reaction to hearing that Potter really was the only one who could beat Voldemort, was to wonder what that kind of pressure must feel like; to know that everybody is counting on you to succeed. It was the kind of thing that could destroy a person.

Draco realised that the only thing that had changed was his attitude towards Potter. He wasn't jealous of him anymore, he pitied him.

"I think that's partly why I wanted to be friends with you." Potter's words jerked Draco out of his reverie.

"What?"

"Well the idea of your own impending death makes you think."

"Well it would. And it's hardly 'impending'; you must have oh, what, a fifty-fifty chance?" Draco joked, attempting to make light of the situation. A brief smile flitted across Potter's face but it faded quickly.

"If that. Anyway, I had a lot of time to think over the summer. At first I was angry, afraid; scared of my own shadow. I felt guilty about Sirius' death too. Voldemort had been in my head, in my fucking _head_, and I'd done nothing to stop him." Potter was rambling now, and Draco didn't have the heart to interrupt.

"It's very tiring, feeling that helpless all the time you know. I got sick of it; sick of being scared. When you're afraid to go out the front door, you're not really living, you're just existing. So I made a choice. I decided that if I was going to die, it wouldn't be cowering away in the shadows."

"How very Gryffindor of you," Draco couldn't resist saying, and was rewarded with a true smile this time.

"Naturally. I decided to make the best of the time I have."

"So you decided to accost me and force your friendship on me because…?"

"Ha ha. I don't have time for petty rivalries Draco. It's a waste of your energy and mine. Besides, who else was going to save you from having to spend all of your time with Crabbe and Goyle? I mean, seriously, you can do so much better." Potter finally looked Draco in the eye and smiled.

_'I think I might have,'_ Draco thought numbly. He'd never known what it was to have a close friendship, where trust would never be an issue, and he'd certainly not expected to find it in Harry Potter. It was odd, and wrong, in so many ways, but somehow it had happened. Potter trusted him. Draco hadn't asked for any of this; he hadn't asked for friendship or sympathy, and he hadn't expected it, but it had taken him by the scruff of the neck and forced itself upon him.

He thought about Potter forcing him to talk about his problems with the Slytherins, he thought about Potter fighting with his friends over him, he thought about Potter sticking up for him in front of Blaise, and he thought about Potter's smiling face, inches away, so close he could feel his breath. He was suddenly very sure that this was something he didn't want to lose, and also that it was time he started giving something back.

"Are you still afraid?" he asked quietly. Potter looked him straight in the eye and said:

"Every second of every day."

*

"I tried to get him to skip lessons and go to Hogsmeade with me once. It didn't quite work though. We ended up spending the afternoon hiding in a cupboard from Professor Snape. By the time we could get out, it was dinner time and was too late for us to go. I left most of the planning to him after that." Draco smiled wanly at the memory; a sad smile as he remembered better times. He was only just beginning to comprehend how personal this trial could potentially become, and there was very little he could do about it.

*

A/N: Well there you go, hope you liked it! Not sure when the next chapter will be up because I have to move house and go back to uni *sigh* back to the real world. Keep looking though! I think that Draco By Trial will be more of a prequel, either that or there'll be a sequel. Means the same thing really!

**ruella: ***sigh* it's that good? Thank you :-) that list is getting long! What really made me happy about your though was that everything you pointed out that you liked, was everything I was trying to achieve! It's very difficult to make sure the characters aren't OOC, because there are so many things that I want them to be that they aren't. Thanks for reviewing my last story as well! Not quite at the publishing stage yet but I can always hope right? Oh, and I'm 19, since you asked.

**Ningchan:** hurry up and get back in the same country as me!! Thank you again for reviewing, this is almost becoming a habit for you!

**lostgirl: **I promise I won't leave you hanging! I always hate it too when people leave me hanging for months! I also promise there will be lots more stories :-)

**Kay the Cricketed:** Wow! I take it you liked the story then? Ha ha! Such huge praise, you're making me blush! Well, almost. By the way, loved the long review and not just because you were so nice!

**Darklites: **doesn't it just suck you in? It does me and I'm writing it! Lol! What makes a fic, or any story really, gripping for me, is when the main characters are victims of circumstance, kind of like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. That's when you really get to find out the kind of person they really are.

Thank you so much to everyone else who reviewed! I treasure each one, keeping them in a little box to make me smile on the long dark evenings. Well not quite, but you know what I mean.

Please tell me what you thought of this next chapter, also tell me if there's anything you think I should be doing better/more of/less of.


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, I'm just playing with them for a while. I only own the plot, such as it is :)

**RATING:** R, for language and sexual situations, this might change at some point but probably not because I know how you all love a bit of dirtiness!

**WARNING: **This fic contains slash or homosexual references, if this offends you, please do not read any further.

**A/N: **Sorry for the wait!! I've had a lot of trouble writing this chapter, as I'm sure you'll be able to tell. Life also decided to get in the way! Urm, no responses because I'm being told to get off the computer!!

_That not everything is gonna be the way you think it ought to be,_

_It seems like every time I try to make it right,_

_It all comes down on me,_

_Please say, honestly, you won't give up on me_

_And I shall believe._

**Sheryl Crow – I Shall Believe**

"It's the Quidditch match tomorrow," Harry said quietly. Draco looked out across the lake and sighed. A slight breeze ruffled his hair.

"I know."

"Will you be OK?" Draco frowned and shifted slightly, unsure why Harry's concern irritated him.

"Yes," he said shortly. Harry didn't say anything else.

*

Ginny Weasley had snuck into the courtroom after the lunch break, and was now cowering at the back and hoping that nobody would see her. It had been easier than she'd expected, sneaking into a courtroom in the middle of the Ministry of Magic, she'd just slipped in when she hoped nobody was watching. Now, she was sitting in this large, musty room only partially able to see what was going on. She squinted into the gathered crowd and saw Professors Dumbledore and Snape, sitting next to each other and concentrating fully on the proceedings. She could see Moody, Lupin and Tonks nearby as well. Her parents were in there somewhere as well, and she fervently hoped that they didn't catch her. Everybody seemed to be riveted by the stories that Malfoy was telling. She had to admit that the boy was definitely interesting.

Ginny had gotten very used to looking in on Harry's life from the outside. A lot of the time she'd felt like an intruder, peering in and noticing too many things that she shouldn't, but she hadn't been able to help herself. Harry had been her first real crush. Before she'd even met him, she'd imagined what he would be like: the dramatic hero, her knight in shining armour come to save her from her mediocre background; every hopeful cliché a young girl could think of. It had taken her far too long to realise that the real Harry Potter could never possibly live up to the high standards she had set for him in her mind. He was, after all, just a boy.

There had been a long time though, when she had cared deeply for him; had convinced herself that she was in love with him. He had become an obsession; he was constantly on her mind, when he was in the room she couldn't think, she would over-analyse every word he said to her. She'd lived in a constant state of hope that one day he would notice; one day he would come to her. Looking back, she realised how painfully pathetic she had been; crying herself to sleep every time he didn't notice her coming into the room or didn't laugh at one of her jokes. It had all seemed so important at the time; so painful.

Then, her feelings had simply begun to fade. There was no epiphany; no sudden turning point where she saw Harry for who he really was. She had simply drifted away from those feelings, vaguely troubled by the intensity of her emotions. She began to notice other people; people who noticed _her_ and would be able to pay her the attention she craved.

She still wondered sometimes, what might have been if she was a different person, or if Harry had been different, but not so often anymore. However, she still watched him, worried over him with a tenderness born from genuine concern. She'd noticed more than most this last year. Whilst the rest of the Gryffindors rejoiced in the new, carefree Harry Potter who had returned at the beginning of the year, she had seen something different. She had noticed a quiet desperation to have fun; how he still distanced himself from everyone, even more so than before. What had worried her the most though, had been his fear and anger, barely controlled beneath the surface as though he was tired of letting it out. She had seen him sit in the common room, staring contemplatively into the fire, his hands clenched into fists so tight the knuckles were white, as he flinched at even the smallest noise. She'd watched over him from afar, waiting for him to crack, but he never did. For that first month he had carried on laughing, smiling, joking; pretending that nothing was wrong.

She had tried to voice her concerns to Ron; had tried to tell him what it appeared only she could see, but had been quickly silenced.

"Can't you just be grateful that he's happy now?" Ron had snapped, and Ginny had been struck speechless. She'd wanted to shake him and yell.

"Can't you see that it's not real? Can't you see he's hiding?"

But she hadn't. She'd merely shaken her head and reverted back to watching, and waiting.

Then, something completely unexpected had happened; Draco Malfoy had happened. Again, she was forced to watch from the outside in, as the most unlikely friendship in the history of Hogwarts blossomed and grew. She'd watched Harry pull away from Ron and Hermione, preferring to spend his time exclusively with Malfoy. She'd seen him almost bounce out of the common room to go and meet him and, she'd imagined, every time he came back the fear in his eyes had receded that little bit more.

She should have been happy for her friend that he had finally found someone who seemed to be able to reach inside of him like that and calm some of the confusion, but instead it had made her uneasy. There was something she couldn't quite put her finger on; something _strange about their relationship. There was friendship and loyalty and intimacy there, but something else that was completely inexplicable; too much _need_. They'd become so close so quickly, they needed each other in a way that wasn't 'normal'. It was too intense._

And this had made her worry even more, because now she wasn't waiting for just Harry to crack.

She'd suspected that it would be Malfoy first; she could see that he was scarily dependent on Harry, so much so that she could almost empathise. She knew all too well what it was like to need something from Harry that he was completely oblivious to.

*

"This is all very interesting Mr Malfoy, but I fail to see what any of this has to do with the events of the 20th of April," Fudge said, interrupting Draco, who frowned. In a sickly-sweet voice, he said:

"Don't you want to know how it all started to go wrong? I thought you wanted to know about me and Harry." Fudge frowned, clearly disgruntled.

"Yes, but I didn't think you'd be this overly _verbose about it." Draco nearly burst out laughing right there. _'God, if only it was Harry saying that to me. If only he _could__.'_

"I apologise. I'll try and get to the point." Fudge rolled his eyes in a way that said, _'finally!'_ Draco ignored him and tried to avoid the urge to run his hand over his scars again.

*

The Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch match had finally arrived, two days before the end of term, and it was brutal. These matches were always excessively violent, but this was the worst anyone had ever seen. The Slytherin team appeared absolutely determined to win, and by any means. The animosity between the two teams had risen to almost unbelievable heights, spurred on by the fact that the two Seekers appeared to have buried the hatchet and become friends; it was almost as though they were trying to make up for it. 

Draco flew high above the match, trying to avoid all of the other players. Harry was circling below him, glancing up every now and then with a worried expression. 

The match had been going for twenty minutes, the crowd was screaming themselves hoarse, and there hadn't been a single glimpse of the snitch. 

Draco found that being on the Quidditch pitch, playing for a team he wasn't convinced he belonged to anymore, was harder than he could have imagined. If he had thought that his team would have shown some sense of camaraderie towards him because he was playing for them, he would have been severely mistaken. This was just one more arena where they were trying to beat him down.

Harry had noticed, and he wasn't happy about it. At one point, Draco had gotten into an argument with Vince and Greg, who had seemed to have forgotten which players were on the opposing team, and Harry had made to come over to help him. Draco had stopped him with a look; he didn't need Harry to fight his battles for him.

The day was dry and clear, perfect conditions for a Quidditch match. Draco found that he could see for miles. The rolling grounds of Hogwarts stretched out beneath him, and he found himself fervently wishing that he was anywhere but where he was.

Despite the Slytherins' cheating, the two teams seemed very evenly matched. It would again all come down to whoever caught the snitch; Draco or Harry. Draco felt that, above any other match he had ever played, this was one he had to win. It was more than proving a point to his team-mates, or the Slytherins, or the rest of the school. Draco almost felt that this was about his friendship with Harry. Everything hinged on this one match; this one moment in time. 

He needed to show Harry that he could do it.

Draco's head snapped to the side as he saw a flash of gold. The snitch. Floating innocuously a few metres below him. Harry had seen it; had his eyes trained on it as he bent forwards on his broom and sped towards it.

Harry didn't know how important this was to Draco.

Draco shot forwards, his hair flying out behind him. He was gaining, he was close, he was beside Harry, his arm stretched out. The snitch merely floated, barely moving, taunting him. His fingers almost brushed its surface, when something slammed into his side, knocking the wind out of him. He lost his balance and began to fall. He looked up and saw Vince, holding his wooden bat and looking strangely satisfied as his team-mates began to shout at him, and he saw Harry, holding onto the snitch as he looked down in horror. Harry had beaten him again.

Draco blacked out as soon as he hit the ground.

*

"It was at Christmas when I first realised that things were changing between me and Harry. He'd beaten me at Quidditch again, and I wasn't happy."

"You were angry because he beat you at Quidditch?"

"Yes and no," Draco said, shifting slightly. "It's complicated."

"You keep saying that Mr Malfoy, but you aren't making yourself any clearer!"

"I'm trying! It was all so confusing at the time, there are bits about it that I don't understand even now!" Fudge sighed in frustration.

"Christmas," he prompted.

*

On the first day of the Christmas holidays, Draco was finally let out of the hospital wing. He'd received a letter from his mother, the day of the Quidditch match, informing him that his presence at home wasn't required. More than anything, he had been relieved. His mother was one of the last people he wanted to see at that moment.

Harry had come to see him whilst he'd been in the hospital wing, but Draco had refused to talk to him. Harry had caught the snitch, Gryffindor had won; it had all been so predictable. Except for the part where one of his ex-best friends had tried to kill him.

Draco had looked into Harry's eyes and seen nothing but pity. It had made him so angry he'd had to control himself from screaming at him to go away. He knew it wasn't Harry's fault really, but he couldn't help but resent him for being so damn perfect.

Draco walked slowly towards the dungeons. He didn't know how many Slytherins were staying for the holiday, but he couldn't help but hope that it wouldn't be many. As the entrance to the dorms slid open, he took a deep breath before entering. He wasn't sure what the reaction would be to the loss of the Quidditch match.

There was no-one in the common room. There was nobody in any of the dormitories. Draco was alone. He nearly jumped for joy.

*

"All of the Slytherins went home for the holiday. It was a bit weird actually, that hardly ever happened. I wasn't the only one who liked to try and avoid my family."

"Did you know where they all went?" Fudge asked quickly.

"No. I didn't even know they weren't going to be there. What makes you think I'd know where they went?" Fudge looked slightly disappointed. "Anyway, I did my best to avoid Harry; I wasn't really sure I even _wanted_ to speak to him. But the irritating bastard kept trying to get me to talk to him. I swear it was only because Weasley and Granger had both gone home and he'd been left with only the Potter-fan club for company." 

*

Draco had reluctantly let Harry into the Slytherin common room. He was now standing in front of the fireplace with his hands on his hips, glaring at Draco who refused to look him in the eye.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Harry snapped.

"Nothing," Draco said sullenly, staring determinedly at anything but Harry.

"Then why are you being like this?"

"Like what?"

"Draco!" Harry sounded utterly exasperated.

"What? What do you want me to say?" Draco asked coldly, folding his arms protectively over his chest. Harry made a noise that sounded like he wanted to scream with frustration.

"I want you to tell me what's wrong! Is it because of what Crabbe did? At the match?"

"No, I don't care about that," Draco said, realising that he'd hardly thought about it. All he'd been able to think about was Harry.

"You don't care? One of your best friends tried to kill you and you don't care?" Harry asked incredulously.

"He didn't try to kill me, and it's not important."

"Well what _is_ important then?" Draco hesitated for a moment, before saying:

"I lost to you," Draco said petulantly.

"You're angry because I beat you at Quidditch?" Draco could tell merely from the tone of Harry's voice that he thought he was being ridiculous.

"Yes."

"Why? It's not as though it's anything new." Draco bristled at the slightly malicious tone. Harry was clearly very irritated.

"It was personal," he snapped. Harry paused, before asking:

"You think because we're friends now I should've let you win to make you feel better?"

"No."

"Then what? You think I was doing it to be spiteful?" Draco didn't say anything and Harry gaped at him. "You do! How can you think that?" Draco thought he could almost hear hurt in Harry's voice.

"Maybe it's true." He knew it wasn't; knew that Harry could never be so malevolent, but sometimes it felt that way. Maybe it was just because that was what he had always learnt to expect from other people. He wasn't used to someone being so genuinely _nice_.

"Do you think so little of me?" Harry asked in an extremely quiet voice.

"No," Draco said finally managing looking at Harry. "I think so little of what I mean to you." The words seemed to echo off of the stony walls of the room as Harry gaped. Draco imagined that he would hear those words forever, bouncing over and over against the inside of his mind as he cringed. Harry looked as though he didn't quite know what to do with himself. Draco saw his hands clench into tight fists, before slowly uncurling. He turned around, his back to Draco, then turned back again and fixed him with an angry stare. Draco didn't take his eyes off of him. 

"What you mean to _me_? What about what I mean to you?!" Harry shouted. Draco started, he hadn't expected this. Surely it was obvious?

"What?"

"You think I don't know that the only reason you're friends with me is because nobody else wants to know?"

"Well of course it is!" Draco exploded. "That's the only reason you approached me in the first place! Because you felt sorry for me."

"I told you before," Harry ground out, "I wanted to be your friend because I decided I didn't have the time or the energy to waste on hating you! Your argument with the Slytherins just made it easier." 

"Well that just makes it all so simple doesn't it?" Draco turned away, walking to the darkest corner of the room and sitting in a hard-backed chair. He could sense Harry's eyes still on him, before he heard a tired sigh.

"I don't understand why you're angry Draco," he said quietly. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"No, you haven't." 

Draco listened intently to Harry's footsteps as he made his way slowly to the entrance, before turning back again.

"I'll see you later," he muttered, and left with his head down. Draco winced, and then shivered.

*

"He wanted to know why I was so angry of course, and I tried to tell him, but it didn't seem to come out quite right."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him that I thought he should have thrown the match to show that our friendship meant something to him," Draco muttered, not quite able to look Fudge in the eye.

"And what exactly did you _mean to tell him?"_

"Urm," Draco hesitated. "That I thought he should have thrown the match to show that our friendship meant something to him. But you don't understand!" he jumped in before Fudge could say anything.

"It seems like there's quite a lot I don't understand Mr Malfoy. Get on with it."

"You don't know what it's like to be Harry Potter's friend," Draco said quietly, trying his hardest to ignore Fudge's sarcasm, reacting would only drag this out more.

"Clearly," Fudge said. "Enlighten us."

*

Christmas drew closer, and as Draco watched Harry become more and more excited, he became steadily more nervous. Things were still tense between them, but it was as though they'd both decided to just ignore the fact any atmosphere between them. 

Christmas meant something different to Draco. He saw the decorations, heard the music, could sense the building excitement in everyone around him, but he didn't understand it; it never quite seemed to touch him. At his home, the season would pass with the minimum acknowledgement. At Malfoy Manor it meant visiting relatives: drunken uncles, cruel aunts, and petulant and hateful cousins. He found that the single bright spot would be the annual visit of his grandfather, Magnus Malfoy. A strange old man who was full of stories about the 'old days' when everything was cheaper, the winters were colder and evil overlords were more creative. In Draco's mind, his grandfather would never age; would never change. Long white hair that he knew used to be the same platinum colour as his own, a craggy face that he could tell used to be angular and smooth. He carried a simple ivory waling stick, and always seemed to smell of pipe smoke. 

Draco couldn't help but like his grandfather. He was harsh and critical like his father, but at the same time possessed an inner tenderness which, when it rarely appeared, showed Draco how different Magnus really was to Lucius. He wondered sometimes how such a man could raise someone like Lucius. He knew very little of his father's childhood, and was wary of asking.

The last few years, Magnus hadn't visited at Christmas because of ill health. Draco had heard stories of how much the old man had changed; that he was bed ridden and bitter. He couldn't quite imagine it, and he didn't want to have to see it. He remembered how, when he was younger, he would search the house for his grandfather, wanting to hear another story or just listen to him complain. He hadn't always been able to find him.

When Draco was ten years old, he had gone to find Magnus in the library; a vast room full of dark corners and dusty books. He remembered that, at the time, he was feeling excited and mature, it was Christmas Eve, his last before starting Hogwarts, something he had been looking forwards to since he was six. He'd come across one of his uncles, his mother's brother, lying passed out on a couch. He was snoring loudly and drooling slightly. Draco's lip had curled in disgust at the pathetic sight. The man held a glass filled with an amber liquid on his stomach. Every time he breathed in, the glass tilted some more, he was about three inches away from spilling it all over himself. Draco had left him to it and carried on his search. He wondered slowly through the library, waiting for the tell-tale whiff of smoke, that would indicate that Magnus was there, hiding away amongst the books from Narcissa so he could smoke in peace. 

Draco found his grandfather eventually. He was sitting at a window, smoking his pipe and talking to himself. Draco had hung back, not wanting to disturb the old man. He watched as his grandfather began to rock back and forth slowly, his mouth muttering barely audible words. A tear ran down his wrinkled cheek. This had scared Draco. This man was not his grandfather; the proud, ostentatious man who held his head high and complained about everything. This was an old man; a shell that looked like someone Draco used to know. He'd backed away slowly, suddenly intensely sure he didn't want to be seen. He had run all the way back to his room, slamming the door and locking it.

He barely left his room for the rest of the holiday, and never went looking for Magnus again. It wasn't long after that that Magnus stopped coming to see them at Christmas.

Though Christmas didn't mean overly much to Draco, he could see that it meant much more to Harry. As the decorations appeared and the snow fell more regularly, he saw an extra spring in Harry's step, a kind of excitement began to coil up in him and he found himself waiting for it to fully unwind. He'd imagined that, after his childhood, Harry would also feel the same meaningless in the celebration of Christmas as he did, but it seemed to be the complete opposite. After coming to Hogwarts, Harry had finally experienced what a proper Christmas was supposed to be, and it had gained even more importance to him. Every moment was precious to him now, and Draco could see that this time of year was extremely special to him.

This made Draco nervous. He wanted to make Harry's Christmas perfect for him, especially as he was without Granger and Weasley, but he had no idea how. It made him nervous that everything would have to be so perfect; the perfect Christmas, the perfect gift, the perfect company. He wasn't completely sure that this was something he could do.

*

"Being Harry Potter's friend isn't easy; certain things are expected of you. I'm sure Granger and Weasley can tell you that." Draco nodded vaguely in the direction if the two. He saw Weasley twitch at the sound of his name. "I'm not the type of person Harry was supposed to be friends with. I'm tailor-_made_ to be his enemy. He's good, I'm evil; he's nice to people, I'm not. It's a long list. Harry Potter's friends aren't meant to be like me."

"What's your point?" Fudge asked. Draco sighed heavily.

"The point is, that if you spend enough time with Harry, he almost makes you _want_ to be that kind of person; the kind of person who is too far removed from who I am. It just wasn't me, and I didn't want to feel that way."

"So what you're saying is that Mr Potter made you want to get off of your political fence?" Fudge asked succinctly.

"No! And I wasn't sitting on the fence thank you, I was just objecting to the whole thing. War is so messy. Anyway, none of that had anything to do with me and Harry; we tried to not let it come up. No, it was more that Harry made me feel uncomfortable. He made me want to be _nice, and __do things for people. Well, just for him actually, but that was enough!"_

"So he made you feel guilty."

"Yes. I never thought I'd be enough."

*

Night had fallen on Christmas day and Draco and Harry were sitting together in the otherwise empty Slytherin common room. Draco was anxiously fingering the gift in his pocket. Even now, he wasn't sure it was completely right.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to being in here," Harry said, smiling. "It feels like I'm trespassing on enemy territory."

"That makes two of us then," Draco said absently. Harry glanced quickly at him, concern flickering briefly in his eyes. Draco gave him a genuine smile, which Harry returned.

Draco ran his hand over the oblong box in his pocket once more, and wondered why it meant so much to him that Harry would like it. 

With fingers that trembled ever so slightly, he brought the box out and held it in front of Harry.

"Urm, I got you something." Harry's eyes lit up.

"Really? Thank you!" He tore off the paper, revealing a thin, rectangular box made of dark wood. Harry's brow furrowed and he glanced back up at Draco briefly. Draco found that he didn't really want to watch. Harry opened the box and his eyes widened. He took out the knife that was inside and lifted it up. Firelight sparkled off of its surface. 

"Oh Draco," Harry breathed. "It's beautiful." Draco allowed himself to smile smugly.

"I know," he said.

The blade was no more than six inches long, double-edged, and was razor sharp. The handle, however, was what made it truly magnificent. Made of ebony, its dark surface glinted in the light. Every colour imaginable seemed to swirl in its depths, drawing in the eye. A single, silver snake adorned each side. They were constantly curling and uncurling, seeming to flow from one end of the handle to the other. Harry ran his fingers over them, and Draco felt as though he'd just run his fingers over his soul. Harry gently replaced the knife in its box and looked up uncertainly at Draco, who blinked.

"Draco, it's too much. Really."

"No, it's not," Draco said softly.

"No, it is. I didn't expect…all I got you was…" Harry held out a small box which Draco took automatically. He unwrapped it, and felt the undeniable urge to laugh. After all the stress; all of the worry about getting the perfect gift, Harry had gotten him…

"Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans," he said blankly.

"I know," Harry said miserably. "I know, it's pathetic. I didn't know what to get you! What do you get the boy who has everything? And now you've got me this, and it's perfect. I can't take it Draco."

"No, keep it. It's for you."

"But-"

"I said keep it!" Draco snapped and Harry fell silent. Draco slowly opened the box of sweets, then placed one in his mouth. It was strawberry, his favourite. Draco bet that every sweet in that box would taste fantastic.

_What do you get the boy who has everything?_

*

**A/N:** Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed :-) If you have anything to say about this last chapter, feel free!


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, I'm just playing with them for a while. I only own the plot, such as it is :)

**RATING:** R, mainly for language, but the rating may change at some point.

**WARNING: **This fic contains slash or homosexual references, if this offends you, please do not read any further.

_It is not so much our friends' help that helps us  
as the confident knowledge that they will help us._

**Epicurus**

*****

It was January; a new year and a time to begin again. The snow had faded away to nothing as a cruel frost gripped Hogwarts' grounds. Everything was grey and bleak, even the faces of the returning students, and Draco felt that greyness seep into his mind. 

Things were difficult with Harry, there had been very little genuine news of Voldemort, though rumours were abound, and his father was still in prison, but still he felt an unshakeable sense of doom about him. The return of the other Slytherins only served to worsen his mood. He no longer had the run of his common room and was forced once more to cower in his rooms. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't hiding; that it was simply easier this way, but he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe they all thought him a coward. _'One day,'_ he promised himself, _'one day I will stand up to all of them.'_ It was a promise he didn't know how to fulfil.

He knew they were planning something; could see it in all of the eyes that followed him, even as he saw Blaise and Pansy break off together to talk and surreptitiously stare at him; watching his movements. He knew that they'd all been away together over Christmas; could sense and see the new solidarity amongst them. It was frightening, and it made him unutterably sad to know that he had been left out of it; that they had purposefully excluded their once-leader. However, he had his suspicions as to where they had been; what they'd learnt together, and it made him glad that he'd had the opportunity to be with Harry instead.

Even the time he spent with Harry seemed to have changed. Things had been strained between them; the air full of unspoken words and the memory of other words which should never have been voiced. Neither mentioned the knife Draco had gotten Harry, but it hovered constantly between them, like a pointing finger constantly accusing them of things they weren't aware of, and it refused to go away. However, they fought valiantly on, both maintaining an air of nonchalance and a determination not to let anything get to them.

Unfortunately, real life began to close in around Draco. He looked at the students and his teachers as they returned to the everyday drudgery of school, and realised how tired they all looked. For as long as possible he'd tried to ignore it, despite the fact that he was a social leper because of it; that it was what would always come between himself and Harry; despite the fact that it was all around him. 

There was a war brewing. He knew it, Harry knew it, they all knew it. 

He saw the increased security, had to abide by the early curfews set in place for his own protection. He noticed the furtive glances of the Slytherins as they trundled through their lessons. They were worried, but not about the same things as everyone else. Draco was kept away from all of the rumours which went through his house, but he wasn't an idiot.

It was eerie, just how little had been heard of Voldemort. There were no disappearances, no deaths; there was nothing, only rumours that grew more fantastic by the day and a dreadful silence that made him itch.

There were regular student-teacher meetings now, where the students were asked to voice any problems or worries they had. Draco never went to these. In his mind it was just another way for the teachers to sift through any rumours in the hope that they might uncover some genuine information. He refused to be used in that way.

He didn't want any part of it; wanted to distance himself from all of it for as long as possible, but he was beginning to realise that the time that he would be able to just ignore that anything was happening, was coming to an end.

Most of all though, Draco noticed the changes in Harry. He knew that Harry still kept up the Dumbledore's Army meetings; the same meetings Draco had so successfully stopped the previous year. Once a week he would go to those meetings and try to train his friends to fight an unknown enemy; an enemy that could strike at any time, anywhere, and in any way. He also saw the way everyone kept looking at Harry when he was with him, in a way that was almost pleading him to do something. It made him want to sneer at them all.

Draco could almost smell their fear. 

Despite all of Harry's speeches about his new philosophy on life; about wanting to enjoy every moment because he never knew which day would be his last, Draco could see the strain on him beginning to build. He'd guessed that Harry was having nightmares again, each night he would try to put off going to bed as long as possible, making Draco stay out later and later. He saw how Harry desperately tried to remain happy and carefree as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on; as though he wasn't under such immense pressure because he was their only chance; the only one. There was a quiet desperation to him now, and Draco felt completely unprepared to help him in any way.

Draco remembered earlier conversations with Harry, about what Granger and Weasley had said about their friendship, and realised they had been right. One day their many differences would come up, and it would cause an impassable rift between them. He felt so torn. There were things that Harry believed in so blindly that Draco couldn't possibly agree with. Wizards and muggles weren't equal; would never be equal, and the muggles would never understand. Mudbloods scared him, they lived with one foot in each world, wizards or witches during term-time, and then returning to the muggle world and hiding away their wands and books, denying who they really were, for the rest of the time. Who was to say _which_ side they were on? Where did their loyalties lie? If a war came between the magic and muggle worlds, who would they turn on and betray?

Draco was horribly cynical, and Harry would never understand. Draco found that he couldn't help him because there was nothing he could say. He found that the only comfort he could offer was to simply be there, every day, willing to act as though nothing had changed and that nothing ever would.

They'd been sitting silently with the poppies one evening as a cold breeze ruffled through their hair in a failed attempt at comfort. Harry had been to another student meeting, he'd begged Draco to go with him, but he'd refused. Draco could tell that it had been particularly stressful for Harry, but was afraid to ask why. So they had sat for over an hour, not saying anything. Finally Harry had sighed and plucked one of the flowers, twirling it between his fingers.

"This isn't real life; it can't be," he'd whispered. Draco had said nothing, willing to let the silence fall once more, but Harry had apparently been all too willing to speak now that he'd started. "It would have been a lot easier if you'd been there."

"I'm not here to make your life easier Harry."

"No, of course not," Harry had answered sarcastically. "You never do anything for anyone except yourself."

"That's not fair. Look, this is your stupid war. I never wanted to be included. I just wanted to be left alone."

"At least you have a choice. That must be so _nice."_

"Getting at me won't help anyone Harry."

"Do you agree with Voldemort?"

"What?"

"Do you agree with the things he says? About Muggles and Muggle-born?" Draco had stared at him for a long time. He'd thought about lying; about just telling Harry what he knew he wanted to hear, but looking at him, he just hadn't been able to do it.

"Yes, I do. I'm not going to pretend I like Mudbloods; they make me uneasy. It's the way I was brought up Harry, and you've known that all along. Like I said, I'm not going to apologise for it either. But it doesn't mean that I think we should go around killing them all. I agree with his politics, but not his methods." Harry had stared at him angrily, before dropping his shoulders and sighing. "What else did you expect?" Draco had asked.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." The disappointment in Harry's voice had hurt Draco much more than he would ever have been prepared to admit. Draco had thought about all that Harry believed in, so completely without question, and had almost envied him. To be so sure that everything you were doing and thinking was right, that there were such easy distinctions between those in the right and those in the wrong, must be such an easy way to live.

"I can't believe in something as blindly as you do Harry," he'd said softly.

"You could believe in me though." 

"I do! It's just…" he'd stalled, grappling for the right words.

"What, Draco? What?"

"I didn't want to be drawn into this. How could I ever fight for a cause I only half believe in? Either way it would never have worked." Harry had sighed once more.

"I suppose you're right, in a way. At least I know you're not _completely_ evil." Draco had smiled then and they'd lapsed once more into silence, this one much more comfortable.

*

The courtroom had become uncomfortably hot. Draco had been told that it was a warm, mid-summer's day outside, and the heat seemed to permeate even the dingy underground room he was temporarily confined to. He watched as Fudge ran a finger around his collar. The portly, aging man appeared to be slowly melting, and Draco found that he couldn't really blame him for being so impatient.

He let his eyes sweep over the gathered crowd, and wondered when his life had become such a spectator sport. After spending so many private moments with just Harry, it was odd to have so many people interested in what he had to say. His eyes locked with a pair of sparkling blue ones, and he blinked. 

Dumbledore was staring at him. 

The man was an enigma to Draco. He got the idea that he played the role of the bumbling old fool very well, but that there was something much more intelligent and calculating going on beneath the surface. His father had always told him not to underestimate the man; that he wasn't as stupid as he appeared, but Draco had merely dismissed this for years, putting it down to paranoia on his father's part. He wasn't so sure now. He vaguely remembered Professor Snape's words:

"…_I think Dumbledore is sympathetic for some unknown reason, he may have some sway…"_

Draco had to see Harry once more, if only to preserve his sanity, so that he could see he was being cared for, that he was getting everything he deserved; everything Draco couldn't give him. If Dumbledore was wiling to help, he wouldn't complain.

Draco nodded ever so slightly, before looking away from his headmaster.

"After Christmas was horrible. There was something building, you could feel it, and everyone was so tense."

"What was building?" Fudge asked, apparently confused.

"The war of course."

"What war? There isn't any war going on." Draco groaned internally. _'Stupid little man with your stupid politics.'_

"Not yet there isn't." Fudge glared at him as Draco smiled brightly at him. "Anyway, everyone was really stressed, so the teachers decided to give us an extra Hogsmeade weekend, just to help us release some of the pressure. I thought it would be good for me and Harry, especially for him. We needed to get away from everyone else and a Hogsmeade weekend was the perfect idea. So I began to make plans. Things had been really difficult between us and I thought it would be the ideal opportunity to clear the air. Sort of."

*

"I was thinking about this weekend-" Draco had cornered Harry after a particularly boring Potions class that he had spent planning what to do over the weekend with Harry.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, I thought I'd spend it with Ron and Hermione." Harry looked distracted. He kept looking over his shoulder to where Weasley and Granger were waiting for him, glaring daggers at Draco. He stared at Harry, and felt indescribably hurt.

"You forgot…" he said dully.

"Yeah, you don't mind do you? It's just that I think I should spend some more time with them," Harry said quickly, looking Draco in the eye now. It was the casual tone that hurt the most, as though it wasn't really important. Why didn't Harry see that it was important?

"No I…it's fine."

"So, can I see you later?" Harry asked nonchalantly, oblivious to Draco's reaction.

"Urm, no, I'm, urm, busy." Draco suddenly felt the very strong urge to leave. To get away from Harry's enquiring eyes and his friends' glares.

"Busy? With what?"

"Just work. Got that essay from Flitwick remember?"

"I thought you'd finished that already. You were going to help me with it." Harry's voice was worried now. He was paying attention.

"No, it's not finished yet. Look, I've got to go." Draco turned and began to walk away quickly.

"Draco!" Draco carried on walking and tried to ignore Harry's confused voice which seemed to float through his mind and strangle every ounce of hope he had managed to build up over the last few months.

*

"Harry was thoughtless, and it was one more thing that I didn't need. Looking back, I don't think I should have reacted the way I did, he had a lot on his mind, but he'd hurt me."

"What did you do?"

"What I always do of course. I tried to cut him off again. It was probably the worst time to do it though, because it was around then that the Slytherins became more, urm, physical in their threats towards me. There were a number of incidents." Draco tried to phrase his words carefully.

"Did you inform your head of house, Professor Snape?" Draco laughed derisively.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I didn't." Fudge appeared puzzled.

"Why not?"

"What would have been the point? It would only have made things worse for me." Fudge frowned slightly but carried on.

"Give us an example of what they did to you then." Draco sighed heavily and drudged up the most vivid memory.

"Well, I was still angry with Harry about the Hogsmeade weekend, I'd spent the whole week ignoring him and I think it was starting to irritate him. I'd avoid him in the halls, barely acknowledge him when he tried to talk to me, I was basically acting like a brat. I started taking odd routes to lessons, old passages that no-one used anymore, that sort of thing. Anyway, apparently my housemates were paying a lot of attention to where I was going every day."

*

Draco found himself suddenly thrown against the wall as he rounded a corner. His back scraped uncomfortably against the rough stone and his head jerked back, hitting the wall and momentarily blinding him with stars. Stunned, he did nothing but gasp for a moment, before his vision cleared and he was confronted by a pair of icily calm, brown eyes.

"Blaise," he stated, trying not to sound intimidated. He looked past the boy's face and grimaced. "And Pansy, Vince, Greg, Anthony, Charles." A couple of burly, but surprisingly intelligent seventh years appeared to have joined his former friends. He placed his hands on Blaise's shoulders and shoved him backwards. "If you wanted to talk to me, you only had to ask."

"Shut up Draco," Pansy snapped, moving to stand beside Blaise. Vince and Greg hovered menacingly in the background. Draco was reminded of why he became friends with them in the first place. They really were very intimidating. They possessed a certain looming quality that his own unfortunate stature lacked.

"What do you want?" Draco snapped, desperately attempting to regain his composure. Neither of the Slytherins said anything, they merely pulled out their wands, smiling. Draco shifted slightly, his eyes flickering between their pointed wands and their faces. Finally, he crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.

"Is this it?" he asked, in a disappointed voice. "Is this all you've been planning? Just cornering me and hexing me into oblivion? I thought you had more originality." Neither wand wavered for a moment.

"Oh Draco," Pansy purred. "You really should give us more credit than that. Besides, we only wanted to talk."

"Then what're the wands for?"

"Ah, well, think of it as a warning more than anything else. Or a promise of things to come?" she answered silkily.

"We've been practising Draco," Blaise cut in. "It really is amazing how much you can learn in such a short space of time."

"I really don't want to know what you spent your holiday doing Blaise, as thrilling as I'm sure it was."

"Hmm, I think you might be interested." Blaise paused and took a step forwards. Draco leant away from him and felt the wall on his back once more. The cold was seeping through his robes and he fought a shiver. Blaise put his hands on the tops of his arms and pushed him back further. He leant further forwards and whispered into Draco's ear, his breath hot and moist. "And I promise that you'll find out. Soon."

"Draco?" At the sound of Harry's voice, Blaise jumped back, letting go of Draco, who merely stood and stared at him. Harry rounded the corner and stopped short when he saw Draco surrounded by the other Slytherins. Draco closed his eyes and turned his head away, wishing fervently that Harry would just go away.

"What's going on?" Harry asked suspiciously. 

"Nothing," Blaise said. "We were just passing by. See you later Draco." Draco kept his eyes shut but didn't fail to miss the slight pressure of a hand on his shoulder. He jerked away, moving so violently that he hit his head against the wall once more.

Their footsteps faded away and Draco heard Harry come closer to him.

"Draco?"

"Go away Harry," Draco sighed, rubbing the back of his head gingerly. "Just…go away." He then turned and all but fled down the corridor in the opposite direction the others had taken and away from Harry.

*

"I suppose I should have been glad that Harry had interrupted them, I wasn't particularly eager for them to stick around, but I was embarrassed."

"Why?"

"I didn't want him to see me in that sort of position; so weak."

"So you pushed him further away?"

"Yes," Draco answered sadly. "It's just a shame he didn't _stay_ away."

"Two people would still have ended up dead," Fudge said bluntly. Draco's head snapped up.

"Yes, but they had a choice." His voice was quiet, but full of raw emotion. "Harry didn't."

"_You_ had a choice too." Draco looked away, only to catch Dumbledore's eye once more. Draco scowled, resentment flooding through him, as Dumbledore looked straight at him with a benign look on his face. _'Stupid man, trying to work me out. I can almost see the cogs turning. What does he want?'_

"So they threatened you," Fudge continued after a short pause.

"Yes," Draco said shortly.

"And how did you react to that?"

"Well, I was angry obviously."

"Why?" Fudge asked, as though it wasn't a stupid question.

"_Why_?! I'd just been threatened at wand-point! Of course I was angry! I was angry because of what they'd said, because they were trying to involve me in something I wanted no part of, because they were pushing me further towards a side that would never accept me, because they were trying to drag me down and wouldn't let me get away from my father!" Draco stopped talking abruptly, wishing he could take it back. He knew the rules about talking whilst under the influence of Veritaserum. Never give them more than they ask for, keep your answers short and to the point, pay attention to what they ask, how they phrase the question. His father should never have come up.

"Your father? I thought it was about Voldemort." Fudge seemed to focus immediately at the mention of Lucius and Draco cursed himself for it. This wasn't an area he had expected to cover and he certainly wasn't comfortable with it.

"I don't care about Voldemort. I never did. It was always all about Lucius. I was trying to get away from Lucius. It was always him who ruled my life; was always _him_ who was important, not Voldemort."

"So once your father was put in Azkaban–" Fudge began, but Draco interrupted.

"There was no need for me to have anything more to do with Voldemort."

"Which included your Slytherin friends."

"I tried to help them," he said earnestly, and almost felt as though he was begging Fudge to believe him; as though if he could just get one person to believe that he really had tried, then maybe it wouldn't all be his fault.

"Apparently you didn't do a very good job, seeing as two of them are dead." Draco looked down at his lap, and knew that his fate had been sealed. He'd known it really, everyone had known it, he'd admitted his guilt already, and if that wasn't enough, Harry's current state could never have been anyone's fault but his.

*

He heard running footsteps behind him; pounding the ground in their desperation to get to him. He didn't need to turn to know who it was. Only one person ever came running after him anymore. Surely that should mean something? The footsteps stopped abruptly right behind him, and he heard heavy breathing. He was too afraid to speak; too afraid to turn around. Dully, he realised just how much of his time he spent being scared.

"You know," Harry said loudly, "it does feel like I'm always running after you."

"Maybe you should stop then," Draco snapped. "I thought I told you to leave me alone." Harry growled and grabbed Draco by the shoulders and turned him around roughly. Draco jerked away.

"I've been man-handled enough today thank you very much."

"What were they saying to you?"

"None of your damn business. Go back to your real friends _Potter_." Harry jerked back as though stung, but his hands didn't quite manage to leave Draco's shoulders.

"Look," Harry began angrily. "I know you're pissed off about Hogsmeade." Draco made a derisive noise in the back of his throat and made to turn away again, but Harry's hands on his shoulders refused to let him move. "But you're the one with the problem here, not me. I _do have other friends apart from you you know."_

"Don't I know it," Draco muttered.

"And it's not my fault you're such a bastard that you can't even _try_ to be remotely pleasant when they're around." Draco opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again when he realised there was nothing he could say to contradict. _'Damn it!' Harry looked at him kindly before raising his hand to push away the hair that had blown into Draco's eyes. "They're not a replacement for you, but they are important." Draco frowned and shrugged Harry's hands off of him._

"I _know_ that."

"Besides Draco," Harry said softly, "you know, with them, it's not the same."

"Isn't it?" 

"No, it isn't."

Draco stared silently into Harry's open, earnest face, and nearly smiled.

"Listen, can we forget Hogsmeade for a minute?" Harry asked quietly, with a slight glint in his eye.

"Why?" Draco asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Because there's something I want to show you," Harry said, turning away and walking across the grounds in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. Draco followed, scowling slightly.

"I'm well acquainted with Hagrid's place you know," Draco drawled. "We have lessons here."

"That's nice," Harry said, favouring Draco with a winning smile as he carried on past the cabin, finally stopping just out of reach of the sweeping branches of the Whomping Willow.

"Ah, is this some cunning plan of yours to beat some sense into me?"

"That's actually a good idea, I'll have to consider it, but no, that's not why we're here."

"Well, why then?"

"Just watch," Harry said, before picking up a long stick that lay on the ground nearby. He leant forwards slightly, aiming the stick towards the base of the tree's trunk.

"Harry," Draco said, suddenly worried. "Be careful, that thing's vicious." The branches had begun to sway dangerously, whipping around. Draco could feel the movement of the air that they caused on his face. He stretched out a hand and gripped Harry's upper arm, suddenly afraid. Then, the stick Harry was holding touched a knot on the trunk and all of the branches froze.

"It's OK," Harry said gently, removing Draco's hand. "I know what I'm doing." Draco gaped openly at Harry, as he smiled again before he bent forwards and walked towards the trunk. He reluctantly followed as Harry disappeared into a small opening Draco hadn't noticed before. It was dark inside, and he couldn't see Harry; he could barely see his hand in front of his face. It was eerily silent, as though all sound had been cut off from his ears the moment he had entered. 

"Harry? Where does this-"

"Shh," Harry voice came from the darkness, very nearby. "You'll see." Draco could feel Harry's breath on his face, and he shivered.

"Lumos," Draco muttered, and the tip of his wand lit up instantly, casting a warm light which bounced off the earthen walls and low ceiling of the tunnel they had entered.

"Follow me," Harry said.

*

"So where are we then?" Draco asked as he tentatively came out of the tunnel into a small room, which had clearly fallen into disrepair. He looked around distastefully, curling his lip, and brushing imaginary dust off of his robes as though just being this close to dust made him feel dirty.

"We're in the Shrieking Shack," Harry answered nonchalantly as he exited the room and made his way up a staircase. Draco whipped around and followed him quickly.

"What?! I thought this place was supposed to be full of really violent ghosts!" he exclaimed nervously as he too climbed the rickety stairs. He watched as Harry's hand trailed up the banister, almost caressing it, as though stroking a fond memory.

"Calm down. There hasn't been anyone here for years. It was Lupin that the villagers heard all those years ago."

"The werewolf?" Draco asked quickly.

"Yes." They had entered a room at the top of the stairs, there was a four-poster bed and a number of chairs. This room looked more well-used than the others. There was no dust and the fabric covering the furniture and bed seemed relatively new.

"So how did you find that passage then?" Draco asked carefully, he had the feeling that he was missing something.

"This is where Sirius was hiding in our third year," Harry said quietly, taking a seat and staring straight at Draco, who stared back before taking the seat opposite him and sighing.

"God, that seems like a long time ago."

"A lifetime."

"And he was here? All that time?"

"Yes." Draco shifted uncomfortably and looked around again, the bed hadn't been made and it looked as though a fire had been lit recently in the small fireplace by the far wall.

"Harry, why are we here?" Harry had followed his line of sight with his eyes and he smiled slightly.

"Since Sirius died, I've been coming here on my own a lot. It reminds me of him. Nobody else knows, you're the first person I've told."

"Do you sleep here?"

"Sometimes." Draco looked at Harry again, and suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of sympathy for him.

"It won't do you any good living in the past Harry."

"I know, I don't, it's just…a way of coping." Harry turned away and pulled out his wand. He pointed it at the fireplace and muttered, "Incendio." A bright, cheerful fire sprang immediately to life in the grate. Harry took a deep breath before continuing. "Sirius was the closest I ever got to having any sort of father figure."

"I know," Draco said quietly, unsure of where Harry was going with this and definitely not sure that he wanted to hear it.

"When he died, it was my fault."

"What?" Draco asked incredulously, this was certainly not what he'd expected. "How do you work that out? I thought it was Bellatrix."

"Of course, you'd know her wouldn't you?" Harry said, suddenly staring at Draco with a look that made him want to wither away.

"Yes," Draco said with a grimace, "we've met. She's not the sanest of people." He remembered vividly the first time he had met Bellatrix Lestrange. It hadn't even been a year ago. She was not a pleasant woman to be around.

"No, I suppose not. Anyway, they used Sirius, or my affection for him you could say, to get to me. They needed me but he shouldn't have died. I was stupid, I didn't trust people; didn't listen. It was my fault."

"Harry, I don't-"

"It makes me so angry sometimes; makes me wonder why all of this has to happen to _me_. Why couldn't they have just picked Neville?"

"What?" Draco was very confused now.

"Never mind," Harry dismissed his comment with a wave of his hand. "That's when I come here anyway, when I start to think like that. It reminds me of a lot of things; reasons why I should carry on."

"Like what?"

"For other people mainly. Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione. You."

"Me?" Draco asked, uncertain what he had to do with anything.

"Yes, all of you are my reasons. People I care about, respect, love. I'm not living in the past, it's just that I need reminding every now and then."

"So even the great Harry Potter has doubts?" Draco asked with a smile, and felt comforted somehow, as though the fact that Harry got confused and angry too made it alright for him to be so afraid.

"Even the great Harry Potter gets tired of fighting," Harry said with a sad smile. He paused, looking intently at Draco. "I don't want to have to fight you too Draco."

"You don't have to."

"Then tell me what was going on earlier in the hallway." Draco started, unprepared for such a direct question.

"Oh, that. It was nothing," he said dismissively, and prayed that Harry wouldn't push. It was bad enough that Harry had seen him at such a vulnerable moment, but to have to explain…

"Why can't you tell me?" Harry insisted. Draco realised he was almost pleading.

"Because I don't want you to know!" Draco blurted out without thinking. "It's none of your business!"

"If they're threatening my friend it's my business!" Harry said, his voice rising slightly. Draco wondered why it was so important to Harry that Draco told him. He felt a surge of completely unjustified anger towards Harry, and snapped.

"I don't need saving! I don't need your help! There's nothing you can do," Draco finished, feeling utterly defeated as his anger drained away as quickly as it had come and was replaced by a sadness that seemed to reach to his very depths and pull at his insides. He looked deep into Harry's eyes but found that it was too much; there was too much emotion, hope there, too many questions. His shoulders slumped and his head fell into his hands. "It's my father. It's all fucking Lucius," Draco muttered, not really knowing what he was saying or why.

"What is?" Harry asked carefully.

"It's all his fault!" Draco exclaimed, his head rising again as he stared fiercely at Harry. "He's still in my head you know? I did all this to get away from him, but I can still hear him, telling me what to say, what to think, how to act. Daddy's little boy, that's me," he finished bitterly.

"Don't talk like that."

"Why not?" Draco snapped.

"Because it's not true," Harry said simply, and Draco found himself once again longing to possess Harry's blind faith in people.

"Oh please, just look at me! Ten years in the future and I'll bet you anything I'll have a ponytail."

"If you're so much like Lucius, then why are you friends with me?" Draco stopped then and stared at Harry, feeling like he'd been hit by a ton weight.

*

"God that made me think. What if I was only friends with Harry because I knew it was the one thing that would _really piss Lucius off? What if everything I was feeling, all of the warmth and safety, was just something I'd imagined to make it easier to prolong the friendship? What if that was the only reason? The thought still haunts me today, and I think it makes me resent Lucius even more. He's always going to be in my head; guiding me." Draco found that now he had brought up his father, he didn't seem to able to stop talking about him._

*

"I just meant that this whole mess is Lucius' fault," Draco said, carefully avoiding Harry's question.

"I know. He must have been a very oppressive father."

"You have no idea. Being a Malfoy means a lot of things, and I had it all drilled into me. My father can be very cruel, but he always seems to have very good reasons for doing so; there's a lesson behind everything." Draco felt suddenly overwhelmed by everything, as though in the past few moments he'd felt and thought more than he had in months.

"Lucius doesn't have anything to do with us you know," Harry said quietly after a moment. He clearly hadn't failed to notice that Draco hadn't answered his question. _'Am I that transparent?'_

"But he does though. He's everywhere; he's omnipresent, everywhere I go he's with me."

"_I_ can't see him in you." Harry's gaze penetrated Draco's eyes, who felt as though he was drowning in green.

"He used to mean everything to me," he murmured.

"I think he still does." Harry's voice was equally quiet.

"I suppose so." Draco paused, and turned away from Harry. He stood up and walked towards the fire, holding out his hands to warm them even though they weren't cold. "I tried so hard to get away from him. I alienated all of my friends for god's sake!"

"And then became friends with me." Harry had stood up as well and had made his way to stand at Draco's side. He put a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Don't blame me for that. You started it," Draco said with a small smile, turning to face Harry once more.

"Picky, picky."

"It's an important distinction that has to be made."

"We're here now though aren't we? I mean, we're still here, together, and Lucius is still a long way away. He's not coming back."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Draco could feel the heat radiating out of Harry's hand which still lay on his shoulder. Orange light from the fire lit up his face, casting odd shadows. It was a familiar face to Draco now; a face which meant a lot to him.

"Lucius isn't Voldemort you know, can't you separate the two?"

"Don't you see that I don't give a damn about Voldemort and his stupid Death Eaters? It was always just about my father; about trying to be the perfect son," Draco felt the bitterness rise in him like bile, but didn't take his eyes from Harry's face. Seeing him somehow made it easier to bear.

"Why did you stop trying? Why all of this now?" Draco thought for a moment before answering.

"Because he left. He got caught. He put Voldemort above me and my mother. Have you _any_ idea how much that hurt?"

"No, I don't suppose I do." Draco felt Harry's hand squeeze his shoulder gently before it fell away. Despite the heat of the fire, Draco missed the warmth. He moved away and re-took his seat.

"It's amazing how quickly you can go from being willing to do anything for someone to resenting every breath they take," he said as he sank back to the comfortable chair.

"Or the other way around." Harry said contemplatively. He stood for a moment longer, looking into the fire with an almost bereft look on his face. He looked down at his hand, before he too moved away from the fire and sat down again.

"Yes, the other way around too."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, and Draco's mind was spinning; thinking about his father, Voldemort, Harry. It felt as though their lives had both been invaded by some invisible force that was slowly poisoning them. For a few precious months, they had managed to stave off the real world with each others' company, but it was never going to work. Sometimes in life, you really don't have a choice, and Draco was beginning to realise that this was one of those times.

"It really sucks doesn't it?" he said, breaking the silence.

"What does?" 

"That no matter how hard we try to ignore it, there's going to be another war, and we're going to have to be involved. One way or another."

"You were always going to be involved Draco. You're friends with me."

*

"I think I learnt a lot that day, it sticks out in my memory more than anything else anyway," Draco said quietly, hearing his voice echo through the silent room.

"Why?"

"Because of what Harry was trying to tell me. He was saying that _even he_ had doubts; that even he didn't really understand even after all that he'd gone through, all he'd lost."

"Harry Potter doubted his loyalty and dedication to fighting Voldemort?" Fudge's voice sounded understandably disbelieving. Draco thought that Fudge should listen to what he was saying more.

"No, that's not it. He was saying that he sometimes wondered what the point of it all was; that he sometimes found it difficult to understand why everyone he was close to, his whole family, had died in the most senseless way. He was telling me that it was OK to be disillusioned I suppose."

*

**A/N: **Urm, took a while I know, but it's longer! Oh, and slash is coming very soon now! Yay!

**Ruella****: don't blame me if you fail! I might actually feel a bit guilty! Have we gotten to the guessing stage? Well I can tell you've been thinking a lot about it, but I'm not giving you any clues! Sorry, but it would spoil it!**

**Artemis Astralstar:** isn't Harry an idiot? But I think he redeemed himself slightly in this chapter :)

**DreamerofHope:** Confusingly good? Fabulous! That's what I was aiming for. Hope you keep reading.

**Knealzles:** All in good time :)

**Angel-Wings6:** Thank you very much! I do try to put a lot into my writing, there's no point in only half trying!

**Alexis:** wonderful empty feeling? Interesting way to put it but I get what you mean :)

**MalfoySlave:** Don't cry! I didn't think I'd written anything yet that would make anyone cry!

**Starr Light1:** More trial time coming up, but at the moment the main action is in the past and I'm trying to get everything across. Point taken though! Hope you liked the chapter.

**Ningchan:** I know I threatened not to update until you left me a review, and even though you threw a hairbrush at me because of the way I left the last chapter, I decided it wouldn't be fair to keep everyone else hanging. I do however, think you're the source of all evil.

**Thank you SO much to everyone else who reviewed, especially those who've reviewed consistently, I really appreciate it!******


	9. Chapter 9

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, I'm just playing with them for a while. I only own the plot, such as it is :)

**RATING:** R, mainly for language, but the rating may change at some point.

**WARNING: **This fic contains slash or homosexual references, if this offends you, please do not read any further.

**A/N:** The next chapter shouldn't take so long because I've already written half of it! Yay! Hang in there, all will be revealed soon :)

*

_You remind me_

_Of that leak in my soul.___

**Smashing Pumpkins – Blank Page**

*

Draco steeled himself for what was coming next. He needed to be careful; needed to _think_. But Fudge was better at this than he looked and Draco hadn't been prepared for it. With just the slightest look or the smallest question, he seemed able to get right under his skin and had him spilling secrets he'd barely even admitted to Harry, never mind the entire wizarding world. The episode about his father had been particularly embarrassing. Fudge obviously knew all the rules and tricks with Veritaserum as well. _'But not all_,' he thought,_ 'there's one thing he doesn't know.'_

"It seemed that Harry and I had reached new ground; new levels to our friendship. If anything, we spent even _more time together, not just evenings. Every moment we weren't in class or at meals, we were together."_

"Why was that?"

"We needed each other."

"And just how did he _need you?" Fudge asked condescendingly. Draco had a sudden flashback to his father's trial. Fudge had done the same to him and Draco had had to watch uncomfortably as his father hurled insults at the man and dug an even deeper hole for himself. Draco was determined not to let that happen to himself. He would not lose control; he would not disclose anything that was unnecessary. He would achieve what he had set out to do; this irritating little man would not get in his way._

"Harry needed someone to take his mind off of Voldemort. He needed someone to see beyond the scar."

"And what about his other friends? Weren't they enough?"

"I…suppose not. I never really thought about it. It just seemed right that he was with me."

"I see. And what did Mr Potter offer _you?"_

"The same thing I suppose. He helped me to remember that life goes on; that some things are more important than others."

"Like what?"

"Like laughter, having fun, _staying sane."_

"So it wasn't just that you thought that hanging around Mr Potter would give you added protection from your housemates?" Draco glared at Fudge, gritting his teeth.

"No," he said icily.

*

"Draco, they're still staring at us," Harry muttered as they made their way quickly out of the library.

"Just ignore them," Draco said, knowing that his voice sounded overly confident.

"They're following us."

"Let them follow. There's nothing they can do." They had appeared to have inherited two stalkers. Two big, dumb Slytherins called Thomas and Tristan, the big T's as they were known. They had been following them very obviously for the last hour. They were making Harry jittery, but all Draco felt was annoyance. They were like gnats in his ear, buzzing and buzzing until he felt the urge to slam them against a wall with a huge book.

"How're we going to get rid of them?"

"Why should we? Let them follow," Draco repeated. They were only looking for an opportunity that Draco was too intelligent to give them. _'Let them follow,' _he thought angrily. _'Let them follow and see how much I just don't care.'_

*

"There's something I don't quite understand. You said earlier that your relationship with Mr Potter changed; that things became tense between the two of you. And yet, at the same time, you began to spend even more time with each other." Fudge looked straight at Draco, who stared right back.

"I suppose," he began slowly, "that we were better together than apart. We drove each other mad, but at the same time we understood each other…"

*

Draco exhaled deeply, and silently watched the long plume of smoke slowly fade. There wasn't a breath of wind that evening and the smoke seemed to just hang in the air; floating over his head like a protective layer that would shelter him from the world. Harry sat next to him, looking on disapprovingly.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," he grumbled. Draco didn't bother answering, just took another drag. "I don't even see how you picked it up. It's a very _Muggle_ thing to do."

"You know," Draco said slowly. "No matter how many times you say that to me, it isn't going to put me off." Harry glared as Draco smirked at him.

"Where do you get them from anyway?" Draco smirked again and tapped the side of his nose. He thought it was good to retain a certain air of mystery around Harry, and it would be slightly damaged if he admitted that his cousin posted them to him every month.

"I have my ways."

"Whatever," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I never saw the point in it myself. Why bother killing yourself slowly when you don't get anything out of it?" Draco raised an eyebrow, then grinned as a thought struck him.

"What if we could find something?" he asked slowly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I did hear rumours about certain 'herbs' that are grown in the top security greenhouse." Harry burst out laughing.

"Oh come on, everyone's heard that rumour! It's like a school myth!"

"Ah, but I _do_ know certain people who went to investigate last year."

"And?" Harry asked eagerly. Draco merely winked.

"So, interested?" he asked casually.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm not really sure…"

"Not even just to see? To find out if it's true?" Harry stared at him for a moment, before smiling broadly.

"Alright then, just to see. I bet you just want to get me into a hot and steamy enclosed space don't you?" he said with a wink. Draco, much to his irritation, blushed ever so slightly. He hoped that in the gloom of twilight, Harry hadn't noticed.

"In your dreams Potter."

*

"…at least, I thought I did. But there were things going on in his mind that I didn't find out about until it was too late."

"Too late because you tried to kill him?" 

"No. Too late because it meant that I couldn't help him."

*

It was after midnight when they finally managed to sneak into the greenhouse. Draco had been mildly surprised when, when he had met Harry in the entrance hall, that he had appeared seemingly from nowhere right next to him. He'd handed Draco the invisibility cloak he had been under, muttering:

"Had some trouble getting out of the tower." Draco had stared in awe at the treasure in his hands. The silken material seemed to flow through his fingers like water.

"Do you realise how rare these are?" he'd asked quietly, still unable to tear his eyes away from it.

"Yes," Harry had answered shortly, and apparently was unwilling to go any more into it. Draco had shrugged and handed it back, barely wanting to let it leave his hands. 

Now, sneaking around somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, he felt like a criminal. It was strangely exciting; exhilarating almost, but at the same time he couldn't help thinking about the safety an invisibility cloak could offer. Harry, on the other hand, didn't seem to be enjoying himself at all. He was jumpy and irritable, and kept looking over his shoulder.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Draco snapped as soon as they were inside. Harry glared at him.

"Nothing," he muttered.

"If you didn't want to come you should've just said."

"Oh shut up. I'm here aren't I?"

"Yeah, right," Draco mumbled under his voice. He looked around at the greenhouse. "Shit! It's huge!"

All of the other greenhouses were relatively small, housing a few magical plants, organised according to their magical properties. This, on the other hand, was huge. Students were rarely allowed in here, although many had tried. Row upon row of plants of varying sizes stretched away from them into the distance. Draco could have sworn it didn't look any bigger than the others from the outside.

"Wow," Harry said, sounding awed. "It's like the Tardis!"

"What?"

"Nothing. It's a Muggle thing." Draco immediately lost interest.

"So, which way do you reckon we should go?"

"How the hell should I know, this was your idea," Harry replied grumpily.

"If you're going to be like that you can just bugger off."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled and had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. Draco softened slightly.

"Look, really, what's the matter?" he asked as they began walking. At his side, Harry looked straight ahead.

"It's nothing, I just had some trouble getting away. Ron caught me sneaking out."

"So? You're always doing that."

"I know," Harry said sadly. "I think that was kind of the point. It was always _him_ I used to sneak out with."

"So?" Draco thought he might be repeating himself too much, but he really didn't see the point. His eyes scanned the shelves, but he didn't see anything that looked remotely like what they were trying to find.

"So he made me feel guilty," Harry snapped, stopping suddenly. "I just wish Ron could come with us sometimes."

"Well that's not very likely is it?" Draco said, stopping now as well.

"No, it isn't."

"It's not _all my fault you know! It goes both ways." Draco was disgruntled by what Harry was trying to blame him for._

"You don't exactly make it easier though do you?" Harry almost shouted. Draco noted his fists clenching slightly by his sides and took a step back, looking warily at Harry.

"Why should I?" Harry didn't seem to have an answer, instead he took deep, steadying breaths and relaxed his posture.

"He's my friend, and I've hurt him," he said quietly, his head and shoulders dropping. Draco began to feel guilty and he reached out to Harry, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Harry looked up and smiled. "I'm sorry, it's not your fault." He raised his own hand and placed it briefly over Draco's, before turning to look around them. "You know, I think we're lost." Draco looked around as well, and felt a brief moment of panic when he realised he didn't recognise which direction they'd come in.

"Damn it," he muttered. Harry had walked a few steps away, and Draco felt the insane urge to stay very close to him; nothing bad happened around Harry. 

He felt the danger before he saw it. He whipped around and saw a huge plant, about the same height as he was. Vicious-looking, it almost appeared to rear, a giant flower in its centre opened its petals slowly. Spiked creepers raised and it began to sway dangerously.

"Oh shit," he muttered. "Harry. _Harry!"_

"What?" Harry turned and the plant lunged. Draco grabbed Harry and pushed him sideways, but not before one of the creepers managed to reach Harry and pierce his side. Draco landed heavily on top of Harry and rolled over immediately. Harry wasn't moving and the plant looked ready to strike again. He grabbed Harry under his arms and yanked him backwards out of reach of the plant. 

Harry opened his eyes, which appeared glazed, and began to mumble unintelligibly.

"Oh bugger," Draco swore. "Harry? Harry can you hear me?" Harry tried to raise himself on his hands but they slipped and he fell back.

"Ouch."

"Are you OK?" Draco asked, kneeling beside him. He put his hand on Harry's cheek and turned his head to face him. "Harry?" Harry grinned at him.

"Hi there," he slurred.

"Oh fabulous," Draco sighed.

"Have I been drinking? I feel a bit…funny." Harry began to giggle. He raised his hand to Draco's, which was still on his cheek, and covered it gently. Draco stared at him for a moment, and felt something begin to tingle mysteriously within him. He untangled his hand from Harry's and sat back on his haunches. Harry tried to sit up again, and managed eventually to slump forwards, his hands supporting him. Draco reached out and steadied him with a hand on his back.

"Mmm, oh, whoa there Leslie. Feeling a slight head-spin," Harry said, stretching out each syllable. "You're swaying, are you drunk?" Harry's head swayed from side to side, whilst Draco sat completely still. He couldn't help the grin which spread across his face.

"You have beautiful eyes, did you know that? They're almost like spun silver," Harry said softly, looking up innocently at Draco. His glasses had been dislodged from his nose, and his eyes were clearly visible, bright and round, peering owlishly upwards. Draco rolled his eyes, stood up and then leant down to try and help him up.

"And did you know, you're so much more eloquent like this? Maybe I'll leave you this way." It happened in a moment, far too quickly for Draco to react. At the same time, it all seemed to happen in one painfully slow second, suspended in time. Harry put his arms around Draco's neck, supposedly for support, but instead of trying to stand up he pulled Draco further towards him, pressing his lips gently but firmly against Draco's.

His lips were soft and cool, but Draco didn't move. He stayed completely still, surrounded by the smell and taste of Harry. He was vaguely aware that his mind was asking just what the hell was going on, but it didn't quite seem to register when Harry's lips were pressed just so on his.

Draco sat back, stunned, as Harry's lips left his. They stared straight at each other, neither gaze moving, and there was an intensity, an undeniable truth in that look that took Draco's breath away more than Harry's kiss ever could have.

"Oh dear. Draco…" Harry murmured, before his arms slipped from Draco's neck and he fell back, passed out cold.

"Harry?"

*

"And just what did you want to help him with?" Draco had to think very carefully before answering.

"He had a lot on his mind. Voldemort, the pressure put on him by knowing about the prophecy, his friends were giving him problems because of the amount of time he was spending with me, love." He spoke the last word quietly, unable to skirt the subject because of that damned potion.

"Love?" Fudge asked, looking confused. "Mr Potter had a girlfriend? I wasn't informed of this." Draco almost laughed out loud at the sheer closed-mindedness of the man. _'Such a little man, living in such a little world.'___

"He didn't have a girlfriend, no. But he developed feelings for someone, and it was on his mind a lot." _'And mine,' he thought._

"Ah, I see," Fudge said pompously, smiling indulgently.

*

Draco stared down at where Harry lay in the hospital bed as Madam Pomfrey fussed over him.

"Will he be alright?" he asked her quietly, his gaze never moving.

"Yes," she said primly. "But he really should be more careful next time. He's important you know. And you should know better yourself Mr Malfoy."

_He's important. He's important._

"Yes," Draco said faintly. The nurse gave him an odd look, before placing a hand on his shoulder.

"He'll be fine," she said, before bustling away again. Draco stared for a moment longer before turning to leave. 

"Draco?" A faint voice, coming from Harry's bed. He turned back, and saw Harry looking up at him with a confused expression. "Where am I?" he asked slowly.

"In the hospital wing. I have to go," Draco said shortly.

"No, wait!" Harry began to struggle to sit up again, but failed miserably. He sank back, defeated, into the bed. "Stay, please."

"OK, but only for a minute."

"No, stay, forever…" Harry's voice drifted off into nothing as sleep took him. Draco looked at him and then, sighing heavily, took a seat by Harry's bed and waited.

*

He sat for a long time, just watching Harry sleep. Madam Pomfrey had looked at him disapprovingly, but with a single glare from him she had shrugged her shoulders and left him to it. He briefly considered that it was very irresponsible of her, to leave him with Harry when he was so defenceless. Draco could do anything to the sleeping boy and there would be no-one there to stop him.

He stared on, barely aware of the shifting shadows around him as he focussed entirely on Harry. He'd known something had been bothering him, but this? _This_ had never crossed his mind. He half wondered if Harry had told anyone, if there was someone wandering around school every day knowing this secret that Draco should have _known_ about. _'Why didn't anyone tell me?' The answer that there was no-one who __would, rang clearly through his head. There were too many people at Hogwarts who would love to laugh at his stupidity; who would __love to see his friendship with Harry ruined._

_'How did I not see this?'_

It occurred to him that maybe Harry didn't know; that maybe he understood his feelings even less than Draco did. This then brought up the question of what would happen when Harry woke up. What would he say? Do? Would he confront it? Draco didn't think he'd be able to handle that, not yet. Or would he push Draco away because he was scared?

So Draco sat, and watched, and waited. Terrified that the only good thing in his life would end, and even more scared by the thoughts he was trying to ignore that were running through his head. Because oh, it had felt so simple when Harry's lips touched his, as though it was some other natural progression that had just crept up on them and he hadn't noticed. But when Harry had passed out, with his name, _his name, the last thing on his lips, Draco had panicked and nearly left him there. He'd stared at him, completely numb, shocked beyond belief and…hurt. He'd felt insanely betrayed, as though Harry had just taken everything they'd built together and flipped it upside down, making it something it was never supposed to be. And how did he get past that? How could he get past the confusion of having the only important relationship in his life at that moment, being expressed as a sham?_

But what if it wasn't? Draco found himself looking back over all the time he'd spent with Harry, and realising that every moment; every minute, was fixed in his memory. Every touch burned his skin even now, every grin made him smile to himself. Harry couldn't know, he would have noticed. But there could have been other things that Draco considered he might not have been aware of, like his own reactions to Harry, his overwhelming need to be near him, how much he _cared_.

Could it be that this was something _neither of them had been aware of? He sat silently, resisting the urge to run away. If he could last the night, he could handle this._

It was nearly seven in the morning when, as Draco watched, Harry scrunched up his eyes slightly, then sighed and opened them. He stared at Draco for a long time, before he frowned and then sat up. Apparently this was a mistake, because he groaned and lay quickly back down.

"Morning," Draco said quietly. Harry jerked at the noise and groaned loudly again. Draco almost smiled.

"Have you been sitting there all night?" Harry asked blearily. Draco shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes," he said in the same quiet voice. "You asked me to." Harry looked at him strangely for a moment, before his face broke into a smile. Draco found that he couldn't look at him.

"Well that was silly. What the hell happened to me?" Draco's head whipped round and he locked eyes with Harry, hope suddenly filling him.

"You don't remember?" he asked quickly.

"Nope! Well, I remember going into the greenhouse, getting lost, and then I think I got stung, or something. After that, not a lot." Draco's whole body sagged, but he wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed. Harry gave him an odd look. "Why? Did something happen? Did I do something?" Draco looked at him and smiled.

"No, nothing happened. I just thought you'd remember that's all."

"How did I get here?"

"I brought you of course." Draco's mind was racing. Harry didn't know. _Harry didn't know_. But did that change anything? It didn't change what he'd done; it didn't change what Draco had been thinking before Harry came around. Could they? Was the possibility even there?

"What did you tell Madam Pomfrey?" Harry looked suddenly worried.

"Ah, well," Draco shuffled his feet and looked down. "I had to tell her the truth didn't I?" Harry sat up straight. Panic crossing his face.

"What?! You told her that-"

"That you got stung by some weird plant on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest of course." Draco smiled teasingly as Harry visibly relaxed. This was easy, he could do this. Harry didn't have to know anything.

"Oh, OK then. I suppose. It does make me look a bit stupid though."

"Which is what makes it completely believable." Draco smiled again, until his eyes began to wander, tracing Harry's hair, the line of his jaw, his eyes. He noticed a red line on Harry's cheek where it had been pressed into his pillow, and the way that his left arm was flung casually over his head, slightly raising the top of his pyjamas. He jerked back suddenly when he realised what he was doing, running a slightly shaky hand through his hair. "Right, well, as sleeping beauty has arisen, I shall depart," he said sarcastically, trying to hide his discomfort. He stood slowly.

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"What for?"

"For staying." Draco smiled once more and, leaning over Harry, stretched out his hand, intending to brush away a lock of Harry's hair that had fallen into his eyes. He stopped suddenly, his hand frozen halfway there. He brought it back to his side and clenched it into a fist.

"No problem," he said stiffly.

*

"Well I hardly think Mr Potter's love-life is something we need to go into right now, unless it has something to do with the murders you committed?" Draco stared straight at the man in his pin-striped robes, and wondered what the true answer to that question really was. In a way, it wasn't what he had done, more how he had acted afterwards that had everything to do with Harry.

"No," he said quietly. "They had nothing to do with Harry's love-life."

*

They were out once more practising Quidditch in the last of the day's light. It had been two days since the greenhouse, and Draco couldn't stop thinking about it. He'd been the one to suggest Quidditch, though it brought back uncomfortable memories it allowed him to spend time with Harry without actually having to talk or even communicate at all. Harry, for his part, was happier than Draco had seen him for days. He seemed to have regained some of his care-free air, as though he had managed to exorcise some of the demons that had been following him around over the past few months. Draco only wished that he was able to enjoy his friend's new-found freedom. Harry whooped and yelled as he dove and circled, searching eagerly for the snitch. Draco found that it was very difficult to keep himself from staring.

Every time, every _single_ time Draco saw Harry fly, it was like watching him for the first time, and every time he noticed something new. That day, he noticed Harry's grip on his broomstick, firm but almost gentle at the same time, so sure, so confident. He shook his head and tried to concentrate, but found it impossible when all he could think about was what Harry had done to him.

"Damn you Potter," he muttered, and flew to the other side of the pitch, as far away as possible.

He really should have been concentrating more. He'd read of countless fatal accidents involving Quidditch that happened simply because the idiot player wasn't paying attention. But it was so difficult when Harry flew so close to him; when all Draco could think of when Harry was near him was that forgotten kiss. _'Not so forgotten.' He was wondering what the hell Harry had done to him, when he heard him shout from across the pitch._

"Look out!" He turned his head back, just in time to see the goal post that he was about to run into. It was too late to swerve, too late to do anything but stare. His broomstick hit first, jarring him from his position. He tried to hold on, but he lost his balance and he was falling; falling again, but this time there were no laughing and spiteful teams-mates, no roaring crowd, there was no Harry staring down at him with that terribly horrified expression. There was only silence. Terrible, overwhelming silence that made him want to scream if only to break it, because it was unbearable. He hit the ground and his stick followed. Lying there, not moving, he tried to breathe, gasping silently as an iron glove squeezed his lungs.

Harry was in his view now, his worried face close, too close. His breath hit Draco's face as his worried hands took his head and placed it gingerly into his lap. For a moment he sat there, numb to all sensation but that of Harry, until he was able to breathe again. Draco watched his lips forming his name, and all of the memories from two days ago flooded back. It was too much, he was drowning and the one person he thought he could hold onto was the one who had betrayed him; who had made him _feel_.

"Stop it! Get off me!" Draco shouted suddenly, trying desperately to scramble away. He had to move, to get away, because it was all so wrong, _so wrong_... He rolled over, away, and groaned as his ribs began to throb.

"What's the matter with you?! Stop it, you'll hurt yourself!" Harry shouted frantically, reaching out to him again. Draco jerked away and managed to struggle to his feet but he'd hurt his leg when he'd fallen, it collapsed under his weight and he fell again. Harry caught him clumsily.

"Stop it," Draco said weakly, struggling in Harry's arms. "Please."

"What the hell is wrong with you? What were you doing?" Harry asked again, refusing to let go.

"Just leave me alone. I can't…"

"Can't what? _What_?"

"Stop touching me!" Draco shouted, and Harry finally let him go.

"Why? _What's wrong_?"

"I…I just…no, stop asking. Don't ask. _Don't ask!" Draco was almost frantic, he couldn't tell him, it would ruin everything. __He would ruin everything again. _

But how could he not, when it meant everything?

"Just tell me what's happened!"

"You kissed me OK! That's what happened! You kissed me!" He blurted it out without thinking, and hated himself immediately. Harry's stunned face filled his mind, became so unbearable to look at that he had to look away, had to leave. So slowly, gingerly, he limped away from an unmoving Harry, feeling as though he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.

*

"So, to return to earlier, things were difficult between the two of you, but you were happy?" _'Happy, what does that mean? Was I happy that Harry kissed me? Was I happy that I told him?' Draco thought for a long time._

"No, we weren't happy; you can't be in that kind of situation. Always waiting, not knowing, living in uncertainty where things could change at a moments notice. All I can say is things were…intense, but we managed. I'm not really sure how, but we did. When you have someone you trust to hang onto, you can get through just about anything."

*

Draco stood alone by the lake, not really knowing what he was doing there. He'd thought about going to sit with the poppies, or to the Shrieking Shack, or the Quidditch pitch, but everywhere reminded him of Harry. He couldn't get away, his face was printed on every brick, every blade of grass carried his smell, the wind was his voice, whispering secrets in Draco's ear. He needed, _longed_, to get away, to run away and forget everything that had happened, all he'd said, all he felt. So he'd returned to the lake, coming full circle and back to the beginning again, back to when he was so uncertain and confused about what Harry wanted. He was angry again, sad again, lost again. He hated that he was so afraid, and hated Harry for being the cause of it. He'd tried so hard to tell himself that none of it mattered, that they could carry on as normal because Harry didn't remember. The problem was that he remembered, _he_ knew that none of this was real. It was a façade for them both to hide behind and it was cruel.

But now, now there could be no more denial because they both knew. It would hang between them like an executioner's noose that if either approached would encircle and strangle them because it was too strong, too much.

It was insane. All of this was completely insane, it made no sense that this should have happened.

He heard gentle footsteps approaching him from behind and knew it wasn't Harry; Harry would be running, always running. He turned and was surprised the youngest Weasley, the girl, looking nervously at him. _'What was her name again?' he thought dully. _'Doesn't matter.___ She's a bit-player in everyone's life but her own.'_

"What did you do to him?" she asked cautiously, and Draco was impressed by her bravery.

"I didn't do anything."

"He won't talk to anyone. It's like he's completely switched off, like he's comatose or something but he's still moving."

"He has a lot on his mind."

"What did you _do_?" And the desperation in her voice made Draco stare suspiciously at her.

"Why do you care?" he asked harshly. "Worried I've scarred your one true love for life with my evil Slytherin ways?" She shot him a disgusted look.

"I'm not in love with Harry," she said quietly, looking into Draco's eyes with a kind of all-knowing truth that terrified him so much that he had to look away. He stared wildly up into the sky, trying to hold onto the stars so that he wouldn't fall.

"There's nothing I can do to help him," he whispered.

"You could just be there for him. He _needs you, whatever's gone on between you."_

"I think I make it worse." He heard a sudden intake of breath and he looked at her. Her face was a pattern of both shock and revelation, and he sighed in resignation. Here was the one who knew. The Weasley's weren't all stupid then.

"I thought…I mean…I…I thought it was you," she managed weakly, and Draco smiled wanly.

"Whoever said that it wasn't?" 

*

**A/N: **OK, so I've been accused of being a bit slow with this, and I'm sorry if it's frustrating but I just wanted to make sure I'd clearly defined certain characteristics of Draco and Harry so that it would be easier for readers to understand their reactions to certain situations. To make this in any way believable there has to be some form of build up, some development that will lead them to where they now find themselves. If I've taken too long to get to this point, I'm sorry! There was just a lot that I felt needed to be said before anything else could happen.

To everyone who said that I do the flashbacks well, thank you!! It takes me ages to get them just right :)

**GaBrIeLa2:** Draco is accused of murdering Blaise and Pansy, and of trying to kill Harry. There's no war as yet, but things are brewing :) Sorry if you got a bit confused. Urm, check the second chapter, that's where stuff hapapens between Draco and the Slytherins. 

**Ruella****: Was I any quicker this time? I think so :) I do try, but the longer you wait, the better it is!**

**Curious Dream Weaver:** Funky name by the way! Thank you! I always find the dialogue is the hardest part to write. It's SO difficult to get it so that it sounds any way believable.

**Famous angel: **So I take it you like the story then? :) I'm glad it brightens up your day.

**Ancient Galaxy:** Not dead! Mind you, every time I finish a chapter I almost panic because I'm not always altogether sure about the next one! Every chapter feels like it should be the last to me! I keep threatening to give up, but I haven't yet. I'm too scared of Ningchan for that!

**Ningchan:** yes yes, source of all evil, blah blah blah, heard it all before. Where the hell have you been? You don't call, you don't e-mail, I'm beginning to think you don't love me anymore. *sob*

**Morgana Soulfire:** Argh! Thank you! I take it 'blank lack of colour' wasn't meant to be a bad thing right?

**Micro-chick:** Ooo, long review! I think my longest yet. They always make me happy :) The story really has just evolved hugely out of the smallest idea. Every chapter, I plan and then write something almost entirely different that is about ten times better! Not to criticise JKR, but she does depend on stereotypes a lot as a way of not having to develop some of her characters. To be fair though, she does have so many that she couldn't possibly fit in a charater development for everyone! I do love Draco, there's something deliciously dark about him, but at the same time he's just another boy really, trying to figure things out.


	10. Chapter 10

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, I'm just playing with them for a while. I only own the plot, such as it is :)

**RATING:** R, mainly for language, but the rating may change at some point.

**WARNING: **This fic contains slash or homosexual references, if this offends you, please do not read any further.

*

_Never thought you'd make me perspire,_

_Never thought I'd do you the same._

_Never thought I'd fill with desire,_

_Never thought I'd feel so ashamed._

**Placebo – My Sweet Prince**

*****

Hermione was really listening now, but not to Malfoy's words, to his voice. His tone was careful, calculating, and she also saw how hard he was gripping the armrests of the chair he was confined to. His eyes barely flickered, sometimes looking at the people listening, but mostly he stared straight at Fudge, as though he had to concentrate on every word he said.

_'There's more to this,' _she thought. _'He's not telling us everything.'_

There was something in the way that he was so alert that told her he was desperately trying to hide something; that he was looking for loop-holes in Fudge's questions. He'd barely lost control once, except when talking about Lucius, and that wasn't the Malfoy she knew and detested.

She'd almost felt sorry for him when he'd been talking about his father. She couldn't even begin to imagine the pressure he'd been under; maybe it wasn't so surprising that he'd cracked. She could see how that weakness in him had drawn Harry to him. He always was one for trying to save people. A hero complex that nearly always got him in trouble.

She allowed herself to think about Harry for a moment. She had been to see him nearly every day since it had happened, but he never responded. Shut away in his solitary room in St. Mungo's and locked inside his own head, she had sat and tried to talk to him; had tried not to despair. All he did was lie there, the only movement was his chest slowly rising and falling. She'd told him about the trial that was coming, about idle gossip from school and once, secretly, about her feelings for Ron; how much he irritated her, how he got under her skin, and how she thought that she might fall in love with him one day. But it was like talking to a statue. The doctors said there was nothing they could do; he was in a magic-induced coma, something to do with an overload of magic in his system. By all rights he should have been dead; Malfoy had cast the Avada Kedavra curse on him at point blank range, just before stabbing Pansy and beating Blaise's head in against a wall.

She shivered at the thought of it. Apparently Snape had found them in Malfoy's room afterwards. Malfoy had been sitting calmly by Harry's side, covered in Blaise's blood and with Harry's head in his lap, in an almost comatose state. Pansy had been lying nearby in a pool of her own blood with a knife in her stomach and Blaise had been slumped against a wall. She'd heard rumours that Malfoy had said nothing afterwards, except to ask how Harry was and to say that he was the one who'd killed Blaise and Pansy. At the time they had said it was shock. 

Nobody had known what had prompted the attack, and there had been no witnesses. They had all been aware of how the Slytherins had been treating Malfoy, and that the ringleaders had appeared to be Pansy and Blaise, but nobody had expected such an outbreak of such brutal and unforgiving violence. Everybody had been sure of one thing though, that Draco Malfoy was an evil, callous, cold-blooded murderer, who had tried to kill their saviour. Questions had been asked why the son from such a family as the Malfoy's had been allowed to get so close to Harry, but Dumbledore had remained silent, only voicing his sadness and distress that such a thing could have happened. Sometimes Hermione thought that maybe he should have done something, and other times she blamed herself for letting Harry get so involved with Malfoy.

Interest in the trial had been huge, everybody wanted to hear the whole story; wanted to see their darkest suspicions about Malfoy vindicated. But now that she was there, Hermione wasn't completely sure that that was what they were getting.

"As I see it," Fudge said loudly, getting Hermione's attention, "you haven't told us anything yet as to your reasons for any of the crimes you have committed. You _are_ aware that that is the reason you are here?" Hermione fixed her eyes on Malfoy, who looked as though he was trying not to lose his temper.

"Yes, I'm aware of that. I was just trying to give you some background," he said icily.

"Your time is running out Mr Malfoy, get to the point." As Hermione watched, she saw his hands grip the armrests once more as he closed his eyes.

_'What is he hiding?'_

*

It had been over a week, and Harry was still refusing to speak to Draco. During the few lessons they had together, Draco would burn holes in the back of Harry's head with his eyes, willing him to turn around; to look him in the face like a man, but he never did. During meals Harry sat with his back to the Slytherin table, his shoulders hunched over, not talking any of the other Gryffindors. What was worse though, were the looks that Ginny Weasley kept giving him. At dinner she would sit facing him, giving him pleading looks as she kept glancing worriedly at Harry. Draco wasn't sure whether he was more embarrassed by this or frustrated. What exactly did she expect him to do? There was nothing that he could say to Harry that could possibly make any of this OK. At the same time though, he was infuriated by his reaction. This was Harry the Brave, Harry the Noble, and never in his life had he expected Harry to act like a coward. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. Draco should be the one hiding away, disgusted and ashamed, and Harry should be the one to come after him and make some spectacular speech that would suddenly make everything alright again.

Draco had tried talking to him in the corridor before Potions but even then, when he was standing right in front of him, Harry wouldn't look. He'd tried to speak.

"Harry, I-" He was going to say that he didn't mind, that it didn't have to matter, that he wouldn't make it matter if only Harry would _look_ at him because he missed him and he was lonely and he didn't like being on his own again. He wanted to tell him that he was afraid to be alone, not only because of the threats from his former friends, but because he was afraid that that was how things would be for him for the rest of his life if he failed at being friends with Harry. He wanted to tell him that he cared for him, but he couldn't.

He'd stood there, mouth half open, with no words left to say. Harry had simply pushed past him and entered the classroom.

It was then that Draco realised that there was nothing he could say because he'd already said it in so many other ways; in the way he'd reacted, in the way he'd shouted and fought and run away, and in the way he'd sat up all night watching over Harry as he slept, simply because he'd asked.

Night after night, Draco found himself pacing his room, unable to work because he couldn't concentrate on anything except Harry. His essays made no sense and his Arithmancy calculations were always wrong, but he suddenly found that none of it really mattered at all. So he put away his pens and papers and unfinished sums, and went to find Harry. Nothing had changed for him; he had no new inspiration that would guide him, he just wanted to be able to be with him again. He didn't want to fail again and he didn't want to give up. He didn't know what he wanted, but he knew for sure that this horrid silence between them; this uncomfortable ending, wasn't it. This wasn't what he wanted and he knew for certain that it wasn't what Harry needed.

He'd searched the castle in the vain hope that he would just run into Harry, until giving up and going outside. It was then that he'd realised that there was only one place that Harry would be; only one place where Harry could go that he could be sure no-one would find him.

The only source of light in the room was the fire which crackled quietly in the corner. The armchairs were empty, so Draco made his way towards the bed. A small figure lay there, cocooned in the thick covers and breathing steadily. Draco sat on the edge and waited for Harry to turn over and look at him.

"I didn't think you'd come," Harry said eventually, his voice muffled by his pillow. Draco shifted uncomfortably.

"We need to talk," he said stiffly. Harry still didn't turn over, but seemed to burrow even deeper into the covers. "This isn't something you can avoid Harry," Draco snapped, feeling irritated.

"Just say what you have to say and leave." Draco sighed and stood up. He walked towards the fire and watched the flames gently licking at the wood. His mind wandered once more to that night in the greenhouse, and he wondered what it was he really wanted to say.

"You've been avoiding me." Harry made no response; didn't speak, didn't move. "I've missed you." Still no response, and Draco thought about just giving up; about just forgetting the whole thing. Then he thought about not seeing Harry anymore, and his stomach knotted itself so painfully he felt sick. "You know, I never really thought you'd become such a big part of my life. Not even when we started to become friends," Draco said quietly, speaking to the fire. "I always used to hate having to see you every day in lessons; the boy who was never confused, never alone, the boy who always won, the boy who was guaranteed a happy ending with a picture-perfect life to go with it. God you used to make me sick, with your sanctimonious airs and how you were always so _dismissive_ of me, as though I only existed to annoy you. I don't suppose it was any secret that I resented every breath you took. I used to sit in my room and think up ways to get at you, just so you would know how much I hated you; hated that you could ignore me so easily. It's strange how things can change isn't it? I can't really say that I hate you anymore, and I don't think you find it so easy to ignore me. I still sit in my room thinking about you though." He was vaguely aware that Harry had finally sat up and was staring at him, but he didn't turn back.

"Draco, I'm-"

"Don't apologise," Draco said quickly.

"Then what do you want?" Harry's voice was quiet, steady, and Draco wondered just what kind of answer he wanted to hear.

"I don't…I don't want this to end," he whispered truthfully.

"Does it have to?" Draco spun round, intent on speaking his mind; intent on saying something poignant, meaningful, but again he found that he had nothing to say; nothing that could make a difference.

"I don't know," he whispered and dropped his shoulders in defeat. Harry rose from the bed and came to stand before him, so quietly that Draco barely noticed him until he was right there; in front of him. Harry hesitantly reached out his hand and, on impulse, Draco withdrew further away from him. Harry stared at him for a long time, before dropping his arm and closing his eyes. It was only then that Draco noticed that he wasn't wearing his glasses. He looked so much more exposed without them; vulnerable.

"I suppose it does," Harry said, before turning back towards the bed.

"Wait," Draco said quickly, reaching out to grab Harry's arm before he knew what he was doing. And there was that warmth under his skin again; that heat that was uniquely Harry that made him want to shiver even though it warmed him from within. Harry didn't move and Draco slowly released his grip. "What…what do you want from me?" 

"Nothing Draco. I never wanted anything from you. I just wanted to be near you."

"From the beginning? Was _this all it was about?"_

"No! It was never…I never…" Harry's voice trailed off as he stared at Draco with a shocked expression.

"Then what?"

"I don't know!" Harry cried, obviously frustrated.

"I'm just trying to understand."

"Well trust me, so am I," Harry muttered.

"It didn't…I mean, that night, it wasn't what I expected." Harry shifted uncomfortably and looked at his feet.

"Yeah, well I got that far."

"It made me really angry you know? It made me think that this whole thing; this whole friendship, was just some twisted lie you'd thought up."

"No! It wasn't! I never meant for any of this to happen!"

"Oh please, what the hell is going on then? Was _any of this real?"_

"Yes, all of it was!" Harry shouted. "I don't know what's going on! _I don't know_!" He ran a hand through his hair roughly and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Draco frowned, for some reason that was the last thing he wanted to hear; it made him feel even angrier.

"Don't do that! You can't take it back, you can't _apologise!"_

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't make any difference! Are you really sorry anyway?" Harry looked at him for a long time, opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Draco's breathing quickened, he felt the blood begin to pound in his ears. "Harry?"

"No, I'm not," he whispered. Draco gaped at him, rocked by the truth of it; shocked that this boy, Harry Potter, had _never been the person he'd thought he was._

"You're not?" he choked out.

"No, because I think it was the truth, and it was always there. Underneath everything. I've been thinking a lot about this, can't stop really, and it was the truth. For me anyway." Harry looked at his shoes, refusing to meet Draco's shocked gaze. Draco stood with his head cocked to one side, unable to take his eyes off of Harry; unable to process what he'd just said. They stood like that for a long time, too cowardly to look at the other or just not brave enough to leave; until Harry finally managed to raise his head. "Have I ruined everything Draco?" he asked, in such a plaintive, begging voice that Draco felt his heart lurch. He looked at him for a moment and felt…confused. He wanted to reach out, reassure, be comforted, to just _touch_, but at the same time he wanted to run away; far, far away from all of this to where he could breathe again and he didn't feel as though life was trying to suffocate him until he gave in and stopped fighting.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "You're not who I thought you were." He turned to leave and felt a hand on his arm. This time, he didn't flinch away.

"Where are you going?" A quiet question, one which held a thousand others that could never be answered. 

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he said. "Not to us."

"But it did," Harry answered earnestly.

"I have to go." His hand was on the door-knob, and he was out of the door and away before he let himself think again.

*

It was raining when he got back outside. He looked back briefly at the Whomping Willow, feeling that nothing had been resolved and that he'd possibly just made things worse, before heading quickly towards the castle. A roll of thunder sounded far off and he quickened his step.

"Draco! Wait!" He turned quickly to see Harry running after him, slipping and sliding on the wet grass. He came to a stop in front of Draco, breathing hard. "There's something I need you to tell me first."

"What?"

"Why did you stay with me that night? What do _you want from __me?" Draco stared at Harry, watching the rain trickle down his chin and neck before entering the collar of his school shirt. He watched the Gryffindor badge on his cloak darken as the water hit it, until it looked almost black. He noticed Harry's hair, wet and plastered to his head, for once not sticking up at all angles. Harry stood brazenly before him, his chest heaving, his hands clenched, but his eyes never wavering, and Draco honestly didn't know what to think._

"I stayed because you asked me to; because it felt right even after... I want this to never have happened Harry. I want things to go back to the way they were because then it was so easy. I don't want to lose you, but I don't know how to get past this. I want to stay close to you, but don't know if I can. I want _everything_ Harry. I always do." He turned away again, and this time Harry didn't follow.

*

"It started getting really serious when they started threatening Harry. They saw how close we were and guessed that he was my only weakness."

"Your only weakness? What do you mean?"

"He was the only person at Hogwarts that I didn't want to see get hurt."

"Because he was your friend," Fudge said slowly.

"Yes." 

"You know, that doesn't make a lot of sense, since you later cast the Avada Kedavra curse on him." Draco took a deep breath and fought to not let the words _'…it was because I was in love with him…' come out of his mouth._

"I know. None of it makes sense. Except the fact that I was afraid." That was definitely true; he'd been terrified.

"Of the Slytherins."

"Of what they could do."

"To both of you."

"Yes." Draco was having to take deep breaths now just to stay calm. He was mentally pleading with Fudge to move on.

"Was Mr Potter aware that they were threatening him?"

"Yes, he…overheard." Draco slouched in his seat and prayed that Fudge wouldn't make this any harder than it already was, he could already feel his self-control slipping. One wrong word, one strangely phrased question from Fudge, and it would all come out. He was also mildly disturbed by the way Granger was looking at him, as though she was staring right inside his head and trying to figure out was really going on.

*

Draco was walking blind, not noticing where he was going or that he was wet through and shivering. He didn't hear the footsteps behind him, and he was alone for the first time in months.

A hand grabbed the back of his collar and he was pulled forcefully backwards. He slammed into the wall and, with the wind knocked out of him, slid ungracefully to the floor. He blinked up, momentarily confused, into the faces of six Slytherins who were peering down at him with mixed expressions, varying from hatred to disgust. He gulped, audibly.

"Have a nice night Draco?" Blaise asked silkily with a smile, Draco didn't bother answering. "We saw you outside with Potter. Lovers tiff?" Draco pulled himself slowly to his feet.

"Fuck off," he said, enunciating each word. Blaise's smile widened, he put his hand on the centre of Draco's chest and pushed hard. Draco lost his balance and fell to the floor again. He looked up to find a wand pointed between his eyes.

"Watch your language. There's a lady present," Blaise snapped, jerking his head towards Pansy who was hovering in the background. Draco snorted and glared upwards.

"What do you want this time?"

"We've been watching you Draco." Draco recognised the speaker as Tristan and he smirked.

"I noticed. You really aren't the most subtle of stalkers Tristan. You sound like a herd of elephants whenever you move, did you know that?" Tristan made to move forwards, his fists clenched, but Blaise stopped him with a raised arm.

"Leave it for later," he said curtly. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Well Blaise, I never saw you as the controlling type. Didn't think you had it in you."

"There's a lot you don't know about me. In fact, there's a lot you don't know full stop."

"Oh please," Draco sneered, finally pulling himself upright again and looking Blaise in the eye. "If you've just come to threaten me with your new 'training' again, I'm not really interested." Blaise grinned again and was about to speak when Pansy stepped forwards. She reached out her hand silently and ran the palm down Draco's cheek and the side of his neck. Draco fought not to flinch away.

"We _have_ been watching," she said quietly. "And we've seen more than you know. Very fond of Potter aren't you?" Draco flinched quickly away and caught her wrist, bending it backwards until she winced.

"He's my friend," he hissed. "Touch him and I'll kill you." She looked straight into his eyes, and smiled.

"Just your friend?" she asked innocently. Draco paled and dropped her wrist suddenly. He looked around at those surrounding him and saw grinning faces everywhere. He started to feel sick. "Didn't think so."

"What do you want?" he whispered.

"Well, to be honest, the boys here wanted to just shove you around a bit, give you a few bruises to remember us by, that kind of thing, but I said no. No, that won't work on Draco Malfoy, not Lucius Malfoy's son. He's stronger than that. Bruises and broken bones will only make him stronger." She leant forwards and placed a hand under Draco's chin, forcing him to look at her again. "It's in your head where you're weakest. You depend on people too much Draco. You depended on your father and look where that got you! All alone now aren't you? Except for Potter of course." She let her words hang in the air, more effective than a punch or a scream. She stepped back and looked shrewdly at him. "We've been speaking to your father as well," she said quietly. "Told him all about what his son's been saying. He wasn't very happy." Draco's eyes widened and he stared disbelieving at her.

"What?" he whispered, his voice shaking.

"Oh Draco, I thought you weren't afraid of anything anymore." He stared into her eyes and felt the bottom drop out of his world.

"We'll be seeing you Draco. Look after that, ahem, '_friend' of yours," Blaise jeered._

They left Draco slumped against the wall, his breath hitching in his chest as he fought against tears and pain; fought against the urge to merely stop breathing. He could still hear their laughter echoing off of the walls; could still feel their touch, and he was back in the shadows again wondering what they'd do next and hating himself because he was so afraid.

A sound made him stiffen straight away; a slight shuffle and rustle that sounded exactly like…

That damned invisibility cloak. 

Draco stared, disbelieving, at where Harry stood. For a moment neither of them moved, until Draco pushed himself off the wall, turned on his heel with an angry snarl and walked away. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he had to leave; couldn't bear looking into those eyes only to see something he wasn't sure was there.

He was walking quickly, almost blind with anger and fear until he couldn't think anymore and just started to run.

*

"I didn't know that he'd followed me. We'd had an argument you see, that was why I was on my own. He saw it all and he came after me, I was so embarrassed! I think the fact that he'd seen bothered me more than anything they could ever have said or done to me."

"Why? Why was that so important?"

"I didn't want him to see me like that. I didn't want him to know how afraid I was. And I was so angry at the whole stupid situation, and I aimed it all at him." Draco hung his head, hating himself for feeling the way he did; for being so _weak_. He couldn't stop talking, simply couldn't stop himself and they were all going to _know, the one thing he'd tried so hard to hide. _

"What did he do Mr Malfoy?" Fudge asked sharply, sealing Draco's fate.

_'Oh God.'_

*

There was Harry's face, half in shadow, half in light, staring back at him with horrified eyes. The moonlight hitting his face made him look paler than normal; somehow he didn't look quite right. He stared at Draco, a puzzled, shocked look on his face and concern for him in his eyes. That wasn't something Draco wanted to see. He pushed himself off the desk he'd been sitting on and turned his back, he didn't want to look at him anymore.

"Draco?" 

"Look, I really don't need this now."

"Draco, I-" He could hear the worry in Harry's voice, and he hated it.

"Don't you dare," Draco whispered. "Don't you dare fucking pity me. I don't need that from you." Harry was quiet for a moment, and Draco raised his eyes to look out of the window he was facing. All he could see was the reflection of Harry's pale face in it. He stared at him, and Harry looked deep into his eyes.

"It's not pity that I'm feeling," Harry whispered, so quietly Draco wasn't sure whether he'd heard him say the words or read them on his lips. Harry raised his hand to touch Draco's shoulder, but Draco flinched away and the arm fell back to his side. Draco took his eyes off of Harry's face and watched the rain trail tracks down the outside of the window.

"I know," he said sadly.

It was dark and windy outside, he couldn't see more than a few feet but he was mesmerised by the water, streaking down and thrashing the ground with its fury. It was somehow apt that the weather was echoing his deepest thoughts; as though, suddenly, everything had fallen into place. Everything was so clear to him now. It was too fucking dark, and so quiet that Draco could hear Harry's breathing, slow and steady as though his mouth was right next to his ear. He wanted to stop it right there; to put his fingers over Harry's windpipe and stop that sour breath, just to erase that look in his eyes because he didn't want pity, or sympathy, or empathy, or whatever he wanted to call it. He didn't want him to feel anything.

He looked at Harry's reflection once more, then put his fist through the glass where his face was.

The rain came in through the window and washed away the blood that gathered by his knuckles. He looked at them for a while, wondering why it didn't hurt more. He turned, looking at Harry, who hadn't moved; hadn't flinched. He could see the shadows of the rain-tracks on the other windows reflected onto Harry's face, adding an eerie effect to the already present strangeness in the pallor of his skin. He shook off the feeling and made to walk past him. Harry grabbed his arm, refusing to let him leave.

"You're staying right here, and I'm going to make you face this," he said, sounding more determined than Draco had ever heard him. It made him angry beyond belief. He shrugged off Harry's hand and stepped closer to him.

"Leave me alone. What makes you think this has _anything to do with you? You weren't so ready to face anything before," he hissed in Harry's face, but he didn't try to leave again. Instead, he returned to the desk and sat, looking downwards, willing himself to calm down._

"I'm here because I care Draco, and it has _everything to do with me. Everything that affects you, affects me."_

"I know," Draco said softly.

"I really don't understand any of this. All I know, is that I care." Harry repeated the words.

"Something happen in the last half an hour? You weren't so sure of that before."

"Yes, I was." Draco said nothing, just continued to look downwards at his shoes.

A hand touched the back of his neck, slowly caressing in an act of supreme comfort, but he still refused to look up. He was suddenly intensely interested in studying his shoes; examining in huge detail each scuff mark and wondering where they all came from. There was dirt on them and he had absolutely no idea where he could have picked it up from. He'd wandered so far that night. The hand moved to his hair, rubbing in small circles; feathering through the soft, fine strands. This was more than a subtle, soothing gesture and he knew it; this was more like exploring. He hunched his shoulders over slightly and his eyes shifted to exploring the dusty floor of the room. They drifted over each cracked, grey flagstone in turn, and he wondered over the origin of each break. What harsh treatment had resulted in them? He was finding the movements of that hand intensely distracting. He wanted to shake it off; to just get up and leave and escape the confusion it was causing within him. But at the same time, he never wanted it to stop; his body refused to move and his mind point blank rejected the idea of even contemplating the loss of this strangely intimate touch.

The hand moved back down to his neck and then ran around to his cheek as Harry moved to stand in front of him. Draco's skin tingled everywhere those fingertips had touched him. Another pair of shoes had now entered his eye-line; they were equally scuffed and dirty. _'Must have happened somewhere I was with him then,' he thought dully. He didn't want to think about those shoes, or that hand, or what any of it meant. He wanted to sit, forever if need be, staring at the dust and simply not thinking. He wanted to avoid all of this._

"I care," Harry whispered again, more as an exhaled breath than actual words.

The hand moved under his chin and gently tilted his head upwards. Draco closed his eyes to avoid the contact, but not before he saw legs, a delicate waist, a stomach, slender fingers hanging relaxed by a thigh. He became aware once more of the sound of Harry's steady breath, calmly going in and out, and he fancied he could feel it dance across his lips with every exhalation. His heart was beating uncomfortably fast under his ribs and he was suddenly extremely glad that he didn't have to speak anymore, his throat had constricted and he didn't think he'd be able to form the words. 

Fingers and palm moved to cup his cheek and the warmth emanating from them made him shiver. They moved slightly, but didn't go so far as to actually stroke. A small part of him was screaming for them to do it. He heard shoes shuffle on the flagstones and knew Harry had moved closer. He was afraid; he didn't understand. This was far more than he had ever expected; it was more than he'd known he wanted. He scrunched his eyes shut tighter.

He could hear and feel the breath more clearly now; could feel a warmth on his skin that had nothing to do with his own body. An excited dread filled him as he waited for what must surely now be inevitable. Then, all movement ceased. There was nothing but that soft breath hitting his lips; feather-light but feeling like blows from a sledgehammer. He felt as though something had been cruelly wrenched from him at the final second. The burgeoning dawn had retreated back into desolate night as though it had been frightened away by his lack of response to it. He was left gasping for air and light with no means of sustenance. A need had been awakened, and he opened his lips. Taking in the sacred air from that mouth that blessed his lips with promises, as though it was a lifeline; the only thing keeping him here, awake and breathing.

Permission; Harry was waiting for permission. A realisation that somewhat shocked Draco. Why was Harry waiting for something he must surely realise he already had?

His eyes relaxed, his shoulders straightened and his own hand rose, unbidden, to cover Harry's. He felt the imperceptible sigh as their hands fell away from his cheek and fingers laced. His hand was cold and shaking, but he gripped tightly onto Harry's, which was soft but just as insistent. He squeezed. Keeping his eyes shut, he rose from the desk as Harry's other hand came to rest on his shoulder, gradually tracing its way down to settle on his waist. Slowly, tentatively, Draco trailed his fingers up an arm, over a shoulder, up the side of a neck, to cup a cheek. Mimicking the actions of the other. He felt hot sparks spike his fingers. He let himself be drawn into the confines of Harry's body and felt once more that glorious breath on his face. If possible, it felt even closer than before.

When lips touched his, he began to drink. He remembered this; remembered the feel of Harry's lips on his, the tenderness, the pure and simple _rightness_ of this. Warmth of a sublime nature began to fill him, and he never wanted to let go; he never wanted to forget. His fingers tightened convulsively, gripping too tightly to the skin beneath them, but he was too afraid to let go. Light kisses drifted over his face, like raindrops hitting his lips, cheeks, eyes, forehead, jaw. He tilted his head to drink more of it. The slightest of moans left his lips, and they were immediately recaptured. This time with hungrier, more insistent kisses. But it wasn't enough, he needed more. They delved deeper, trying to say what their voices never could; that _this_ was real, _this_ was the truth, cold and bare and brutally honest as it was.

Draco pressed closer into Harry's embrace, wanting only more of him. Harry pushed them backwards slightly, and Draco felt the backs of his legs hit the desk, which shifted under his weight. He explored Harry's mouth fully, feeling that there was a kind of salvation there; something that might save him from everything he had done. Maybe this was what he had been waiting for all along, this bliss that was the feeling of Harry's tongue in his mouth and Harry's body pressed so intimately against his own. He felt the familiar hardness that was echoed in his own body, and only pressed closer. He wasn't afraid anymore, only desperate.

Then, he woke up; he saw that he really didn't understand this, that this could never be right, that Harry was his _friend_ and that should mean more than all of this; because this was so fleeting, so inconsistent, so unnecessary. It shouldn't matter how much he wanted it, because it would ruin everything.

Overwhelmed, he gently prised his lips away, and opened his eyes.

Shattered jade crystals gazed back at him, and the shards pierced him; cutting him down where he stood. The world blossomed around him, and the infinitely delicate moment crumbled away to nothing. He saw Harry's lips form a single word, _Draco_, but he couldn't hear it; all he could hear was the rain coming in through the broken window, pattering gently on the broken flagstones. He sat back down on the desk and resumed looking at his shoes, mussed blond hair falling into his eyes. There was nothing he could say; no acknowledgement that could be made.

He felt Harry withdraw tentatively and was too much of a coward to meet his eyes again. He didn't understand what had just happened, but somehow, he knew, it was an ending as opposed to a beginning.

He didn't try to stop Harry as he heard him leave.

_'What have I done?'_

*

A solitary tear teetered on the edge of Draco's eye, hardly daring to fall.

"He kissed me. He kissed me like I was the only person in the world to him; like I was the only person that mattered…and it meant _everything," he whispered. The already silent room seemed to become even quieter as this was absorbed. _

"Why are you crying?" Fudge asked, almost breathlessly.

"Because I know what happens next," Draco replied softly, unable to look Fudge in the eye. 

"It was you wasn't it? _You he developed feelings for? __You he fell in love with?"_

"Yes," Draco whispered, longing for this just to be over with. 

Then, sounding like a whip-crack in the quiet, a chair fell backwards as someone hastily got to their feet.

"No!" Weasley cried, with Granger tugging frantically at his arm. "Get _off_ Hermione! You're lying Malfoy! Harry would never…he'd never _touch you like that!" He was screaming, his voice at breaking point. Fudge was hammering his gavel, asking for calm, and a hundred voices broke the silence and shocked whispering broke out around the courtroom._

"Believe what you like Weasley. It happened and there's nothing you, or I, or anyone else in this room can do to change it!" Draco shouted back, suddenly incensed that this boy, this _idiot, would try to deny what had been going on between him and Harry. "Ask your sister! She knew, she could see it!" That shut him up, and he fell bonelessly back into his seat, his head in his hands._

"I think it's time we took another break," Fudge said quietly, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

*

"Come in," Draco said, so quietly that Snape jerked. He entered the room, looking embarrassed that he'd been caught lurking by the door.

"How are you?" he asked tentatively, looking as though he were about to bolt at the first sign of any tears. Draco rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine. It's alright, it's safe, I'm not going to break down and try to cry on your shoulder," he said sarcastically. Snape visibly relaxed, before straightening his features into their usual half-scowl.

"Yes, well, I have some news for you," he said stiffly. Draco perked up at this.

"Yes?" he asked eagerly.

"I've managed to arrange for you to visit Mr Potter before you are returned to Azkaban. Under my supervision of course. Mind you, after the announcement you made I'm not so sure it's wise. I mean, Potter?" Snape made a face so comical that Draco almost laughed. He dismissed his teacher's words with a wave of his hand and began to pace the room, feeling his spirits begin to rise_. 'One last time,'_ he thought. _'That's all I need.'_

"I still don't see the point though," Snape continued. 

"Not even after what I just said in there?" Draco asked. Snape appeared to consider this, before nodding slightly.

"Love is a strange thing." Draco stopped pacing and faced his teacher.

"Whoever said anything about love?" he snapped.

"Draco, the only reason you're in this mess is because of love," Snape snapped.

"You don't know that," Draco muttered. "Nobody knows that." He started to pace again, his palms tapping restlessly against his thighs. He felt skittish, restless, he reached for his cigarettes but thought better of it and, instead, his left hand made its inevitable journey to stroke the two raised lines on his cheek. He used to be so vain about his appearance that such a disfiguration would have traumatised him for life, he'd had to quickly change his priorities now.

"There's something else you should know," Snape said quietly. Draco turned to face him and felt his heart sink at the look on his teacher's face.

"What?" Snape looked distinctly unhappy.

"It's Lucius, we found out just now, he's escaped from Azkaban."

*****

**A/N: **OK, so I'm REALLY sorry but I haven't got time to write any responses. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you're all really nice and I hope you keep reading. Not sure how long it will be until the next chapter, but I promise lots of revelations and lots of things should be cleared up. That's if I just make it one extra long chapter of course, I could always split it up into two. Any preferences? :) Hope you all enjoyed this last chapter, I wrote the kiss scene _months_ ago and I've been itching to put it in!

Special thanks to Ningchan who calmed my fears about this chapter and helped me out. Thanks sweetie!


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, I'm just playing with them for a while. I only own the plot, such as it is :)

**RATING:** R, mainly for language, but the rating may change at some point.

**WARNING: **This fic contains slash or homosexual references, if this offends you, please do not read any further.

**A/N: **I had such a wonderful reception to the last chapter that I've been a bit worried that this one won't live up to it. I hope it does.

_You get what you pay for_

_But I just had no_

_Intention of living this way_

**Counting Crows – Raining in ****Baltimore******

_It's a bittersweet symphony this life_

**The Verve – Bittersweet Symphony**

*****

"Grandfather!" Draco cried happily. "I've been looking for you." Magnus Malfoy looked up from the book he was reading and smiled at his young grandson. "Are you hiding from mother again?" Draco asked, hesitating because his grandfather looked busy.

"Mmm, she has been nagging a lot," Magnus said, and beckoned Draco over. Draco stepped closer and climbed happily into Magnus' lap, inhaling the familiar scent.

"What're you reading about? Is that a book of spells?" Draco asked curiously, bending closer to look. Magnus reached over and snapped the book shut. Draco looked at him reproachfully, and Magnus smiled.

"That's not something you need to be reading," he said softly. "I think it may be a bit grown-up for you." Draco bristled and sat up straight.

"I'm eight years old thank you very much. Father says I'm almost a man." Magnus chuckled and Draco felt the sides of his own mouth pull into a smile.

"Well, well, I stand corrected." Draco nodded and turned his attention back to the book. He ran his hand softly over its frayed cover, and thought vaguely about his father.

"It looks very old," he commented absently. It was green and black with faded lettering on the front that he couldn't make out. 

"It is," Magnus sighed. "I bought it a long time ago."

"It's yours? I thought you would've gotten it from here."

"Oh no, this is definitely mine. I don't think it's the kind of thing your father would find interesting."

"Why? Is he not grown-up enough either?" Draco asked with a small smile, but Magnus didn't return it this time.

"Oh I think he is, just about. It's just a very opinionated book. I think he either wouldn't agree, or maybe would agree too much." Draco turned to look at him properly, confused by the odd tone to his voice. There was a dark look on his old face that scared him.

"What's the book about grandfather?" Draco asked again, more insistently this time. Magnus smiled at him once more and shifted him into the chair next to him.

"It's about telling the truth."

"The truth?"

"Yes, Draco. There's a lot of power in truth, if you are the one that knows it." Draco was very confused. He didn't understand what was so special or strange about a book about telling the truth.

"I don't understand," he said. Magnus opened the book, flipped through to a particular passage and began to read.

_"'Pragmatism is such a modern way of defining truth: we must be practical about things. Truth cannot be ascertained by consulting the relevant authorities, but is the product of inward meditation. By definition, we believe what we want to and only when it suits us. And we must remain simplistic, not get overly bogged-down by morals and should we; could we? There are so many different forms of the truth that it is so difficult to tell which is more important: the truths we should tell or the truths we should not. But surely protection from what is true; out of love and tolerance and need and desire and a wish to defend, is just as important, if not more, than anything that has come before? Is this where we find another form of truth? Or is it merely pragmatism in the extreme?'" _Draco stared at his grandfather and thought very carefully before speaking.__

"So it's alright to lie?" he asked tentatively.

"It means that sometimes the truth, or the whole truth, might not be completely necessary," Magnus clarified. Draco's brow furrowed as he thought that through.

"But what about when you can't lie? When you're not allowed?" Magnus closed the book and turned his craggy face towards Draco.

"It's time for dinner," he said, standing to leave. "Come." Draco followed Magnus from the library, noting that he had left his book behind.

*****

Draco took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He was standing just outside of the door to the courtroom with two guards on either side of him, waiting to be told to re-enter. His heart was pounding and he swallowed uncomfortably. He felt a dull sense of panic start to rise within him and his hands clenched into fists. _'I will do this,' he thought__. 'I have to.' He patted his pocket, feeling the reassuring weight of his cigarettes and lighter, and now wished that he'd had one._

He couldn't stop thinking about Lucius. Snape had told him that his father had been helped to escape along with a large number of Voldemort's supporters who hadn't managed to escape during the last prison break nearly two years ago. Security had been tightened since then, but the loss of the Dementors meant that it was far too easy for the guard replacements to be over-powered. It had been rumoured that some of the Aurors had been recruited as a temporary solution, but nobody really knew what was going on. 

His father was free, and thanks to Pansy and Blaise he knew everything, and Draco was afraid.

The door opened in front of him and he stepped out into the courtroom once more. His mouth went dry and his hands began to shake as everyone turned to look at him once more. _'I have to do this.'_ As he reached his chair he turned and stood looking at the crowd for a moment, before sedately taking his seat. The chains spread and he was confined once more. They felt tighter than before, as though they could sense his nervousness and the panic inside him that was telling him to try and run. He didn't move, just turned his face towards Fudge, who had stood and was pointlessly calling order into the silence. Draco smirked. After the truth serum had been re-administered, Fudge cleared his throat and addressed him.

"So Mr Malfoy," he said briskly. "We have a friendship, a series of arguments, numerous threats from your housemates, and a kiss. Are you ever going to tell us what happened on the day you decided to go on a killing spree?" Draco grimaced at Fudge's choice of words, but tried to ignore it.

"Yes, I suppose that's all there's left to tell really," he said quietly. Fudge looked immensely relieved at his answer. "Urm, could I have a glass of water first please?" he asked politely.  Fudge rolled his eyes and looked pointedly at the chains which held Draco's wrists and ankles.

"How exactly do you propose to drink it?" he asked. Draco fidgeted, but managed to look simply frustrated.

"It's not as though I'm going to go anywhere," he snapped, indicating the guards on either side of him. "You'll get your answers." Fudge glared at him for a moment, before signally to one of the guards behind Draco. A glass of water was produced and the chains were removed from Draco's wrists, but not ankles. Draco rubbed at the red marks they had left, before accepting the water. He took a sip, then looked back up at Fudge.

"Thank you," he said. Fudge signalled curtly for him to carry on speaking. Draco paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and letting the coolness of the water soothe his nerves. "Harry shouldn't have been there that night. I don't think they'd planned on it, but I suppose it just made it better for them. They knew about us."

"Who are 'they'?"

"Pansy and Blaise. They came to my room, but Harry was already there. He'd come to talk to me."

"What about?"

"What do you think?" Draco snapped irritably.

*****

Draco took a long pull from the bottle, feeling the liquid burn the back of his throat and all the way down into his stomach. He let the feeling settle, fade, before taking another pull. Lying back on his bed, Draco let his eyes droop closed and watched the shapes shift behind his eyelids. The bed felt unsteady, as though it were swaying; as though he was no longer in his cold, empty dungeon room but out sailing on some forgotten piece of water. The sea was rocking him to sleep as the sun warmed him from the outside in. He took another drink, and the boat tilted dangerously. A wave of nausea hit him and his eyes snapped open. He sat up and the sickness faded quickly; its departure left him back in his room.

"That's the last time I drink lying down," he muttered grumpily to himself, putting the bottle down and moving across his room to splash some water on his face.

He studied himself in the mirror, and saw a face he felt no real affection for. It was aesthetically beautiful and he had spent many hours admiring it, but there were too many sharp angles and the hair was too blond. It reminded him of his father. He clenched his fist; the cuts from the window he had broken had all but healed, but they still itched sometimes.

He made his way back to the bed and picked up the bottle again. He'd barely touched the alcohol, but he'd felt the need for it that night. It felt as though he'd done nothing for weeks. He'd moped around his room claiming to be ill, while all the time trying to rid himself of the image of those eyes staring at him filled with so much hurt and rejection. He'd tried to work, tried to sleep, tried to play Quidditch, but all he could do was wonder how he had let any of this happen.

Now, he couldn't even get drunk properly.

There was a loud knocking on his door. He jerked at the sound, and made his way slowly towards the door. He opened it hesitantly, only to find no-one there. He stepped outside to peer around the corner, but there was no-one.

"Fucking morons," he muttered to himself. He turned to go back into his room and froze in the doorway.

"Hi," Harry said, dropping his invisibility cloak to the floor. "Close the door would you?" Draco stepped slowly back into his room, closing the door behind him. Harry stood casually in front of him, the knife Draco had given him for Christmas hanging loosely from his hand. He numbly watched the snakes on the handle writhe, moving faster than they had before. Harry's knuckles were white.

Draco took a deep steadying breath and walked calmly past Harry to his bedside table. He picked up the bottle again, took a deep drink, and then replaced the cap. He set it down with a bang and turned back to face Harry, willing himself to remain calm. When Draco didn't say anything Harry sighed heavily. 

"So, how've you been? Haven't seen you in a while." Draco continued to stare. 

"I'm OK," he said shortly, feeling as though this was all slightly surreal. "How're you?"

"Well to be honest, not so good."

"Really?" Draco asked weakly. "Why's that then?" Harry took a step forwards and Draco had to fight the urge to move forwards too.

"I had this friend," Harry began softly, "and I really liked him. Everything was going really well, but something happened. And now he can't even look at me." Draco raised his eyes reluctantly to Harry's.

"What are you doing Harry? You shouldn't be here." Harry tilted his head, as though thinking, before straightening up and saying briskly:

"I came to give this back." He held out the knife towards Draco. Draco looked at it, then back at Harry, whose face was plastered with a brittle smile.

"It's yours. I gave it to you."

"And I don't want it," Harry snapped.

"Why not?" Harry took another step forwards and pressed it into Draco's hand.

"Because it reminds me too much of you." Draco felt the coldness in Harry's grip around the knife and his hand; saw the hardness in his eyes, and tried not to flinch. He didn't deserve this.

"Why are you doing this?" he whispered. Harry pulled his hand away and Draco felt the weight of the knife in his hand. Harry leant forwards towards him, then past as he reached behind Draco, who shivered when he felt hot breath on his neck. Harry pulled back with the bottle in his hand.

"Mind if I have some?" Draco didn't say anything so Harry shrugged and took a drink. Draco folded his arms protectively over his chest in an effort to somehow distance himself from Harry.

"What do you want?" he asked again.

"I want you to stop hiding from me."

"I'm not hiding," Draco said, too quickly. "I've been ill." Harry tilted his head and smiled lopsidedly.

"Of course you have." They stared at each other and Draco felt the silence build like pressure behind his temples until he thought his head might explode.

"What?" he snapped.

"Nothing, I just…I can't…I've forgotten what I was going to say," Harry stammered, suddenly seeming unsure of himself. "You make it difficult for me to think properly."

He leant forwards again and gently pressed his lips against Draco's, who didn't stop him; who couldn't even if he'd wanted to. He grabbed onto Harry's forearms, gripping tightly for support because suddenly he didn't feel very secure on his feet. Harry pulled away again and Draco found he couldn't look him in the face.

"What's wrong?"

"This is," Draco said softly. Harry jerked away quickly, as though slapped.

"What?"

"You think you can just talk me round with pretty words and gentle touches? It doesn't work that way Harry." Harry's face darkened and Draco took a deep breath, waiting for him to walk away.

"Why are you so bitter? What did I _ever_ do to you?"

"What did you do?" Draco shouted incredulously, suddenly extremely frustrated; as though he was constantly repeating himself. "You lied to me! About _everything! Just like __he did."_

"Who?"

"My father."

"Lucius? You're comparing me to _Lucius_?"

"It's the same thing isn't it? You pretend, you lie, all just to get what you want!" And now he knew what was wrong; it was his father's voice inside his head telling him that he was sick, that this was evil and would only end badly because you should never allow yourself to lose control and you should never voluntarily open yourself up to vulnerability because it was too easy to be controlled that way. It was a _weakness_; what he felt was a weakness.

"I never lied to you. And what I _want_ is you! I'm not going to leave like he did Draco." Harry reached out a hand but Draco flinched away, still overwhelmed by thoughts of his father.

"And how am I supposed to know that?" he almost wailed, as though begging for an answer that would convince him, because he wanted to be convinced; talked round. He _wanted Harry to keep trying. "Why should I believe you?"_

"Because I love you!" Harry shouted. Draco turned slowly to stare at him, all thoughts of his father banished. Harry bit his lip and blushed.

"What?" Draco asked faintly. Harry looked down and shuffled his feet.

"I love you," he muttered. Draco continued to stare at him, stunned, until Harry had obviously had enough. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Oh for God's sake Draco! Just say something."

"What is there to say?" And he didn't know how to carry on because this was all too much, and all too truthful.

"You've got no idea have you?" Harry shouted, his face pushed close to Draco's. "I've risked my closest friendships just to be near you! Half of my house think I'm a traitor and the other think I'm insane! I've been threatened by Slytherins and half the time you've refused to talk to me because you thought I was being thoughtless. All I ever _do_ is think about you, and you have no idea the crap I've had to put up with because of you. Isn't that enough?"

"Well I'm sorry that being my friend is such a _hassle_," Draco snapped.

"That's not what I was trying to say and you know it Draco."

"So you think you've earned this? You think you should be allowed to touch just because you've made a couple of sacrifices?" They were his father's words and he knew it, but they were so much at the core of him that he couldn't help it. With desperation he realised he didn't know the difference between himself and Lucius anymore. Harry turned away, a disgusted look on his face.

"No! I just think I might have earned your trust," he said sadly, and Draco immediately began to regret his words. He took a deep breath.

"Harry I…look, we _can't_ OK?"

"I love you Draco. Do you know what that means?"

"No." No because he'd never felt it before, no because he'd never been told anything except love hurt and love was a weakness and love doesn't really exist because all it is, is lust and it never lasts. And he didn't want that to happen to him and Harry.

"Then will you let me show you?" Harry put his hands either side of Draco's face and Draco thought he was going to kiss him again, but he didn't. He just stood there, not moving, waiting for Draco to answer.

He found that with Harry so close it was difficult to think; difficult to concentrate on anything but the memories that his presence brought up. His hands, his lips, the sound of his heartbeat thrumming in his chest. Everything that Draco had tried to forget; had tried to push away because it was wrong flooded back and he couldn't fight it. He needed to decide; he needed to _think. He could accept this; accept what this really was, that their friendship had changed and things could never go back to how they were, or he could go on denying it and drive himself mad. But he didn't know what to do. His father's face flashed across his mind and he didn't want to end up like him, he didn't want that to happen because his father was the biggest tragedy of all: a man who had based his whole life on lies and deceit and had never known a truth like Draco was feeling now just from looking into Harry's eyes. He opened his mouth to speak and saw the fear flash over Harry's face, and that was all it took for Draco, because anyone who was that afraid of his answer had to mean what he was saying; had to be serious, and that was all that mattered. It didn't matter how they defined themselves; what they were together, he just knew that it was important that they weren't apart because it hurt too much. He leant forwards slowly and gently pressed his lips against Harry's. And there was such sweetness in that touch; such heartbreaking gentleness and desperation between them that he melted and there was no more need for him to think about anything because really, this was the only thing that had been right all along. _

Draco pulled away and rested his forehead against Harry's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Harry said nothing, only held him tighter as though afraid to let go. And they stood like that for such a long time that Draco thought it was forever, until Harry moved his head to nuzzle Draco's neck and that single movement set him on fire and he thought that he'd burst from the intensity. He let his hands drifted under Harry's shirt and he splayed his fingers against the soft skin he found there. Harry pulled his head back to look at him, and Draco allowed himself a single, satisfied smirk at the way Harry's eyes had darkened and were boring into his own. A terrible, consuming heat began to fill him and with it, his fear returned. If this was wrong, if he made one wrong move, said the wrong thing, he would ruin everything. His hands hesitated in their exploration and his look faltered. Harry's frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want to hurt you." Harry smiled, such a sweet expression that Draco felt his heart flutter for the millionth time that night.

"You won't," he whispered. Their lips met in a fiery kiss and Draco felt that he never wanted to breathe again because this was real now, and as frightening as it was; as dangerous and unwise, he felt it was the truest thing he'd ever done. Their kiss deepened and Draco felt himself shiver as Harry ran his hands down his sides, past his waist to rest on his hips. He shifted slightly, circling his arms around Harry's waist and pulling him gently into his embrace. Their lips parted and Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder, who felt him sigh happily.

The door to Draco's room slammed open and the two boys sprung apart at the noise, shocked and gasping.

"Sorry, is this a bad time?" Pansy asked, grinning. Blaise entered behind her and Draco could see Crabbe and Goyle standing outside.

"Stay there and don't come in," Blaise told them as he shut the door. Draco looked quickly towards Harry who was staring at him with a look of confusion and fear. He shrugged his shoulders and turned to face Blaise and Pansy.

"What the hell do you want now?" he snapped. Pansy giggled and turned to Blaise.

"You know, I think we might have interrupted something." Blaise smirked.

"It does look that way." Pansy moved forwards towards Draco, who didn't move.

"Such a shame," she murmured. "Such a waste. And for _him," she said scornfully, gesturing towards Harry. Draco bristled but remained silent._

"It was more of a waste when he was with you," Harry muttered. Pansy whipped around to look at him, a dangerous look in her eyes.

"Shut up!" she shouted at him, and Harry recoiled. "You don't belong here Potter. Run along there's a good boy."

"No," Harry said defiantly. "I'm staying right here thank you. If you ask me, it's you who shouldn't be here." Pansy laughed again, then raised her wand, too quickly for either of them to respond. "Expelliarmus!" she yelled, and Harry's wand flew from his pocket and landed in her hand. Draco saw his own wand fly from his pocket and felt his heart sink. Pansy walked back to Blaise and handed them to him.

"So we're defenceless now. What do you want?" Draco snapped.

"Well," Blaise started slowly, "we didn't really think that you were taking our threats seriously Draco." Draco snorted but Blaise ignored him. "And we did warn you about Potter here, but it seems you weren't quite paying attention. So we thought we'd give you a little lesson. Just to, you know, make sure you know exactly what it is we can do now." Draco took an angry step forwards, but Blaise raised his wand warningly and he stopped.

"How dare you," Draco hissed. "How dare you come in here and threaten me. How dare you _assume that you have any right! Get out!"_

"To quote your friend here, no." Blaise stepped forwards and punched Draco hard in the stomach. "And we have every right, because your father said we could."

Draco fell to the floor, clutching his stomach and breathing hard. He heard Blaise laughing, and he heard Harry yell and a crash to his side. He looked quickly over to where Harry had been standing, but saw him rolling on top of Pansy who had raised her wand. Draco looked to Blaise who wasn't moving, momentarily stunned, so he moved. He lunged towards the two who were grappling on the floor for Pansy's wand. He wasn't thinking, but he saw the glint of the knife-blade, saw the hand clenched into a fist around the handle as though about to punch.

"No!" Blaise cried.

*

"It was all so quick. They'd just burst in on us, taken our wands, threatened us. Blaise had hit me and I was on the ground, and Harry just went…insane! He lunged for Pansy; I still don't really know what he thought he was doing; probably trying to get her wand. Blaise didn't do anything so I tried to get to Harry, but I had the knife in my hand. It all happened to quickly; they'd only just gotten there! How could it all have happened so quickly?" Draco's voice trailed off as the memories surfaced. He saw the glint of the blade, the snakes swirling, faster and faster. He leant over and took another sip of water, but his throat felt as though it had closed up. _'Do it; do it for Harry.'_

"What happened next?" Fudge asked, clearly impatient to finally get the answers he wanted so much. Draco frowned and thought back.

*

Malfoy took another sip of water, and Hermione watched as his hand shook.

"He's lying," she muttered under her breath. Ron turned to look at her quizzically.

"What?"

"He's lying! Look at him, he's a nervous wreck!" she hissed. Ron's eyes narrowed and he looked quickly back at Draco who was talking again.

_"I'd forgotten about it; that _stupid_ knife. Harry had brought it with him; was trying to give it back but I wouldn't take it. It was in my hand and I'd forgotten. I'd forgotten."_

Ron turned back to Hermione, his brow furrowed.

"Hermione, he took Veritaserum. We _saw_ him. He's lying about Harry, all that stuff he said before, it _can't be true, but how?" Hermione looked sympathetically at Ron. She couldn't, and didn't want to, try and convince Ron that that was possibly one of the only things Malfoy _wasn't_ lying about at the moment._

_"Mr Malfoy!" Fudge snapped. "Will you _please_ just tell us what happened?"_

Hermione watched Malfoy look up at Fudge with a confused expression. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes to listen to his voice.

_"I stabbed her of course."_

She gasped when she heard it. She opened her eyes quickly and saw people glaring at her as though she was an idiot, because of course, _everyone_ knew that Malfoy had stabbed Pansy.

"Hermione?" Ron asked quietly. "Hermione? What's going on? I don't understand. What's that bastard doing?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, her voice hard. "But I intend to find out."

*

"Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god." Harry kept muttering to himself over and over. He was still on the floor, staring horrified at Pansy. She looked at the knife in her stomach. She stared at Draco then back down again.

"Oh," she whispered, and fell to her knees. "This wasn't supposed to be how it went." None of them moved, just stared at her silently as her mouth opened and closed silently. She reached towards the handle and wrapped her fingers around it. With a grunt she pulled it free and let it fall from her fingers. The sound as it hit the floor made Draco wince.

"Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god." Harry stared up at Draco, looking completely lost and confused. "Draco?" Draco said nothing, just kept staring at Pansy as she slumped over onto her side. Blood was seeping from the wound quickly and he had an insane moment when he wondered if it would stain the carpet.

*

"You stabbed her, just like that?"

"It was an accident!" Draco cried. "I didn't mean…"

"You didn't hate her? You didn't hate that she'd made your life a misery for a year? That she and her friends had _ruined your life_?" Fudge yelled incredulously.

"Of course I did!" Draco shouted back before he could stop himself. "But not enough to…"

"Not enough to kill her?" Draco looked away.

"I don't know. No. _No_! But I hated her." He hung his head. "I can still see her there, looking at me; just looking at me as though I should do something to help. But I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't do _anything_! None of us could. We just stood and watched her die."

*

"What have you done?" Blaise whispered eventually. "Potter? Draco? _What did you do?"_

"She's dead," Draco whispered. He had the suspicion that he should be feeling something; some form of regret or sadness, but he felt nothing. Except for a vague sense of horror at the whole situation.

"She's dead," Harry repeated. "The knife…"

"You killed her!" Blaise screamed, his eyes widening as he began to panic. "You fucking killed her!"

"Shut up Blaise," Draco snapped. Blaise rounded on him, and Draco was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that Blaise still had his, and Harry's, wand.

*

"Blaise started shouting again. Screaming about how I killed her and how he was going to kill me. He still had both of our wands. I tried to reason with him; told him it was an accident, but he wouldn't listen."

"Well frankly I'm not surprised. You had just killed his friend."

"They were threatening us don't you see?" Draco shouted. "They were going to kill us!"

"Did they ever say that?" 

"No," he whispered. "But you weren't there. It was _obvious_…"

*

Draco raised his hands protectively as Blaise bore down on him, wand raised.

"Blaise, it was an accident! It wasn't anybody's fault!" he shouted, but Blaise ignored him, stopping right in front of Draco and thrusting his wand into Draco's neck.

"It wasn't a fucking accident," he hissed. "I'm not blind."

"Blaise, stop!" Draco cried, but he was defenceless. Harry sat, paralysed, on the floor. Draco stared at him and saw the same helplessness he felt echoed in Harry's eyes. Blaise noticed where he was looking and got his attention again with a particularly vicious poke of his wand. Draco choked and began coughing.

"Very fond of each other you two, aren't you?" Blaise said softly, a dangerous tone to his voice. Draco could barely speak but he saw Harry move suddenly. He got up off of the floor and began to move closer towards them.

"No Harry," Draco said quickly, not wanting to see anyone else get hurt. "Leave it." Blaise turned his attention to Harry and glared.

"Sit back down," he sneered at him. He turned back to face Draco with a wild look on his face. "I've just had the most wonderful idea," he said. Draco felt his heart lurch as he began to panic. "You're so fond of each other," Blaise repeated quietly to himself.

"Blaise?" Draco asked hesitantly.

"Hmm? What? Oh Draco, I've learnt so much since we last had a chat. There's so much you don't know, but I think it's time you had a lesson. Do you remember Imperius? The way it feels? The way you know exactly what you're doing, but at the same time don't? It makes everything feel so much easier doesn't it?" Draco saw the glint in his eye.

"No," he said quickly. "No Blaise, you can't. It's illegal! They'll put you in Azkaban for life! Just think about what you're doing." Blaise began to laugh then pulled the wand away from Draco's throat and waved it in front of his face.

"This is _your wand Draco. Besides, do you really think that Azkaban is a threat anymore? It's so easy to get out of there. The only reason there's anyone left is because it's easier for some people to be locked away where very few people can touch them." Blaise paused for breath and Draco felt his own quicken. "Now, what shall I make you do? Cluck like a chicken? Hop on one foot around the room? Kill Harry Potter?" Draco's heart stopped and his knees went weak._

"No," he whispered. "Please."

"You know, begging never did work very well with me." Draco turned his face to Harry's who was staring, horrified at Blaise. Harry's eyes locked with his and Draco was terrified. A glint of something caught his eye and he saw the knife lying next to Harry's feet where Pansy had dropped it. Harry noticed it too; looked at the knife then back at Draco, shaking his head. A tear fell from his eyes and Draco had to look away, but the only other thing he could see was Blaise and the insane look on his face. There was a wand pointed between Draco's eyes and he panicked.

"Blaise-"

"Imperio!" Blaise shouted, and Draco felt the familiar pink haze begin to settle over his mind. Everything was fine; everything was wonderful. Blaise handed him his wand and he heard the command in his head _'Kill Harry Potter.'_

*

"So what did Mr Zabini do?" Draco wasn't listening to Fudge's inane questions anymore; he was completely lost in his memories.

"I told him; I told him they'd put him in Azkaban for it, but he wasn't afraid."

"Mr Malfoy?"

"And all I could see was Harry's face, and it felt like the right thing to do because that was what he was telling me. But I didn't want to! I tried to stop it but I was too weak. All those times, all that practice with my father and I was never able to. And Blaise _knew_; knew that that was the one thing I'd always failed at."

"_Mr Malfoy!" Draco looked up, his hand half-way down his cheek._

"Yes?"

"What happened?"

"Blaise put me under the Imperius curse and told me to kill Harry." Fudge looked confused.

"But that spell was cast from _your_ wand."

"My wand which Blaise was holding."

*

He took a step towards Harry who was looking at him in abject horror. Harry got to his feet, bringing the knife with him. Draco's hands rose as he made to hit Harry but Harry got there first. The knife came towards his face once, twice, and Draco felt no pain. He knew he was bleeding but it didn't matter, all he had to do was kill Harry. Harry was backing away from him, he'd dropped the knife and Draco's wand-hand rose. He could feel himself fighting it; could feel every inch of his body screaming at him to stop, but he couldn't. It was too strong for him.

"Avada Kedavra." The words came out as a strangled cry and he was blinded by the flash of green which erupted from his wand and hit Harry full in the chest. Harry fell immediately to the ground and Draco felt Blaise lift the spell off of him. Pain erupted from his cheek and he gasped. He raised his hand to it and it came away dripping in blood, but he didn't care.

*

Silence filled the courtroom as tears began to fall from Draco's eyes once more.

"Mr Zabini made you cast the Killing Curse on Mr Potter? Knowing that the two of you were…involved?" Fudge asked quietly. Draco looked up and saw, for the first time, the smallest amount of sympathy in Fudge's eyes.

"Yes."

*

"Harry," he whispered. He fell to his knees beside him and tears began to fall from his eyes. "Harry, Harry wake up. Harry, what have I done?" He shook Harry's shoulders but he didn't move; didn't open his eyes_. 'He can't be dead, he can't be dead. He survived it before, he can't be dead!'_

Draco felt anger swell through him and he turned back to Blaise, who was grinning, a triumphant look in his eyes.

"I've just realised the irony!" Blaise exclaimed, his voice slightly higher than normal. "You've just done what the Dark Lord has been trying to do for years! You've killed the Boy Who Lived! You've actually _helped_ him, the one who you turned away from!" Blaise began to laugh, a horrible, high cackling sound that grated on Draco's ears. He clenched his fists, and realised that he was still holding his wand. He stood up and raised his arm, anger flowing through him. He wanted to kill him; to watch the life flow out of him as he'd made him watch Harry. Tears were still falling as he looked at Harry once more.

*

"I wanted to kill Blaise for it. Never in my whole life have I _ever wanted to kill someone, but I did then. And I looked at Harry's body and felt so _angry_. But I couldn't do it; if only because Harry would have hated me forever. I thought Harry was dead, but I still couldn't do anything that would have made him hate me."_

"So how did Mr Zabini die?" Draco sighed and his head fell into his hands.

*

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, with all the force he could. The wands in Blaise's hand flew towards Draco, but the force of the spell threw Blaise back towards the wall. His head hit with a sickening crack and he slid to the floor, finally silent. Draco watched as a small trail of blood began to flow from his temple. He turned back to Harry, not bothering to check if Blaise was still breathing. He knelt back down and took Harry's head and placed it in his lap. He gently pushed Harry's hair away from his forehead and looked at his scar. He ran his fingers gently over it, but pulled them away quickly, gasping slightly; it felt unbearably hot to touch. He bent closer to look, but couldn't see any difference.

"Harry," he whispered. He leant his own head forwards onto Harry's chest and tried to breathe. He felt the blood dripping from his cheek, felt the pain throb through him, much deeper than just physical, and he felt Harry's chest rise and fall. His head snapped up and he stared desperately at Harry. He watched his chest rise and fall once more and his heart leapt. _'He's breathing, he's breathing! He's alive!'_

He was about to get to his feet to get help, when Professor Snape ran into the room, Crabbe and Goyle hovering behind him. He took one look around the room, at Pansy's body, lying in a pool of blood, at Blaise, slumped against the wall, and focussed on Draco.

"What the _hell is going on?"_

"He's breathing," Draco whispered. "He's alive. Help him."

*

"My spell was too strong; I was too angry. I _swear_ I didn't mean to kill him. I can't say I was sorry, but it was an accident."

"An accident? Just like killing Miss Parkinson was an accident? I've never known someone to be as careless as you Mr Malfoy."

"It was an accident," Draco whispered.

"Is that all you have to say?" Fudge asked curtly. Draco looked up, wondering if he'd managed to say everything.

"I cared a lot for Harry Potter," he began in a quiet voice. "He helped me when I needed it most, in more ways than I think he knew. I would never have willingly hurt him. Pansy and Blaise, they weren't supposed to die. They made my life hell this past year; they threatened me, turned my house against me, talked to my father behind my back, but I never intended to hurt them. It all just got a bit out of hand."

"I see," Fudge said. He turned to the council members sitting on either side of him. In turn, every single one of them nodded. Fudge lowered his head for a moment, before straightening his shoulders and looking straight at Draco.

"Mr Malfoy, it has been a long and tiring day and I am not oblivious to the emotional strain that must have been on you these past months. You were put in a very difficult situation and tried your best to manage. This does not, however, excuse your actions. Accidental as you claim them to be, you took the lives of two of your classmates. They died in a most horrible and brutal manner and for that you must be held accountable. You cannot, however, be held responsible for the current state of Mr Harry Potter. The Imperius curse is the ultimate form of control and therefore you must not blame yourself for this. There is also no evidence of you having any knowledge of Death Eater movements, except for any suspicions you may have had about your classmates. Therefore, this court finds you innocent of the attempted murder of Mr Harry Potter and innocent of with-holding evidence of Death Eater activities. With regard to the deaths of Miss Pansy Parkinson and Mr Blaise Zabini, we find you guilty."

Draco has sat and listened to Fudge's speech with a kind of numb detachment. This was no more than he had expected. He'd known they wouldn't find him guilty of trying to kill Harry, but he knew deep down that it was his own fault. He had put Harry in that position; a position he should never have been in and Draco had known that it was dangerous but he hadn't cared. He'd been so selfish. He'd expected a cheer from the crowd; had expected yells of vindication from all sides, but instead there was only that awful silence that had fallen over them all, ever since he had announced that Harry had kissed him. It was as though they were all too shocked to even react to the one thing they had all come to see.

"Due to your age," Fudge continued, "I cannot sentence you to life imprisonment and I could not, with all conscience do so were I allowed to. It is, however, my duty to sentence you to ten years imprisonment in Azkaban."

"What?" Draco asked. "You're not going to just lock me up and throw away the key?" This wasn't supposed to happen. They weren't supposed to let him go. They were supposed to let him rot away alone forever in a godforsaken cell where no-one would ever bother with him again.

"No Mr Malfoy. It won't be forever," Fudge said and raised his gavel. "This court is adjourned. Guards if you please." Fudge signalled to the guards on either side of Draco and the chains disappeared from around his ankles. They pulled him to his feet and dragged him from the courtroom.

*

The door burst open and Draco turned, expecting to see Snape ready to take him to see Harry but instead saw an angry looking Hermione Granger, hands on her hips with Snape right behind her. Draco took a step backwards, slightly intimidated by the look on her face.

"Miss Granger," Snape shouted. "This is completely unnecessary! Would you please _leave!" Draco looked into her eyes and spoke quietly._

"No, it's alright. This'll only take a minute." Snape scowled darkly and closed the door with a slam as he left. Draco looked at her for a moment longer before sitting down on the desk and sighing.

"Ron's waiting outside," Granger said shortly, and Draco winced.

"What? He didn't want to come in with you and wish me a good trip?" he muttered sarcastically.

"Always so funny Malfoy; so witty. Didn't save you though did it?" Draco was bored of her already. He didn't have to sit there and listen to this.

 "What do you want?" he snapped. There was a pause before she spoke.

"I don't believe you."  Draco looked up, puzzled.

"What?"

"I don't believe you," she repeated. "You weren't telling the truth." Draco took a deep, steadying breath.

"Granger," he said slowly, "it may have escaped your notice, but I _was given a truth serum."_

"I don't care," she snapped. "You were lying. I could tell."

"Why would I lie?"

"I have no idea, but I want you to tell me. You owe it to me."

"I don't owe you anything."

"You tried to kill my best friend!" she cried. Draco stood suddenly, looking directly into her face.

"I was under Imperius," he hissed. She drew away from him slightly and wrung her hands.

"Look, just, _please_. I need to know."

"I wasn't lying Granger," Draco said, feeling very frustrated.

"Yes you were! Look, I don't care what happened between you and Harry, just tell me the truth!"

"I never meant for any of this to come out; this thing between me and Harry."

"So?"

"Well doesn't that tell you anything? It was the one thing I was trying to keep people from knowing and I couldn't do it! Doesn't that tell you that I wasn't lying? That I _couldn't_ lie?"

"Draco-"

"Just go away Granger. They're locking me up, you should be happy." Granger looked away and her shoulders dropped.

"I'm not happy," she whispered. "Harry's still in a coma." Draco sat down and turned his back to her.

"Go away Hermione," he whispered. He heard her footsteps towards the door and the click as it opened.

"Goodbye Draco," she whispered, and then left. For a moment there was silence and Draco sighed with relief. Then the door opened again and Draco turned, expecting to see Granger returning for a second go, or perhaps Weasley, come to beat his brains out. Instead, he only saw Snape, with the Azkaban guards hovering behind him.

"It's time to go Draco," he said quietly, and Draco stood and prepared to do the only thing he had wanted to do all day.

*

Draco entered the room quietly, as though scared of waking someone up, and closed the door softly behind him. It was dark; the sun had set long ago and the only source of light was a dull lamp which sat beside the bed. A small amount of moonlight was filtering through the window, falling delicately on the face of Harry Potter. Draco found he wasn't quite able to look at him yet, so he moved towards the window and looked out. He knew the scene he was seeing wasn't real, that the countryside view he could see wasn't possible in the middle of London, but it somehow calmed him. It had been an excruciatingly long day, and he feared that the night would be even longer; his first night as a long-term inmate in Azkaban. The place was no longer the fearsome prospect it had once been, the absence of the Dementors lessened it somewhat, but it was still a terrifying concept; the thought that that was where he would have to spend all of his time for the next ten years.

Despite all of what he had been through over the course of the day though, Draco found that this moment, having to see Harry like this, was infinitely more difficult. He sighed and turned his head to look at him. His face was relaxed and calm, as though he was only sleeping and not in a coma which the doctors had said was becoming increasingly more unlikely that he would come out of.

Draco found himself wishing that it was him in Harry's place; that he was the one who was lying there incapacitated, forever, because it would be so much easier. It made him wonder though, if Harry would have done the same for him; would have made the same sacrifices that he had? Did Harry love him enough? As much?

Draco ran his hand gently over Harry's forehead, stroking away the hair that had fallen there and letting it run through his fingers. _'The last time,' he thought. This was the last time; there would be no more; no more laughter between them, no more kisses, no more friendship. Harry had saved him, probably in more ways than he even knew, and Draco had destroyed him._

He had been obsessed with Harry Potter his whole life. From the first time he had heard the story, to their first meeting on the way to Hogwarts, to the first time Harry had tried to help him. He had hated him, tormented him, depended on him, and now he loved him; beyond anything else in the world, above himself, and he had loved every minute of it. Whether he was trying to break him or touch him, Harry had made everything interesting. He was a challenge in every sense of the word. This was just another form of his obsession with the boy.

He ran his hand down Harry's cheek, pressing in slightly and feeling the warmth of his skin against his cold fingers. He was about to take his hand away and turn to go, when he felt it; the undeniable flicker of an eye-lash against his skin. His hand froze and he stared at Harry, his heart beating unbelievably fast underneath his ribs.

"Harry?" he whispered, checking over his shoulder to make sure Snape hadn't come to get him. Surely his time had run out already. There were no more movements, only the steady rise and fall of Harry's chest as he breathed. Draco let out a shaky breath and let his hand fall away. It had been nothing. "I've got to go Harry."

He leant down and pressed his lips gently against his friend's, and felt something else: the slightest hint of pressure returned, and the hitching of a breath that wasn't his own. He pulled his head away quickly and looked into the open, green eyes of Harry Potter.

"Draco," Harry whispered with a smile.

*

**A/N**: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I was very flattered. I just hope you enjoyed this one as much. It was such an important chapter, I just hope I got it right. Just a note to say that I think the next chapter will be the last! *sob* I've gotten quite attached to this story.

**ACDC4913**: Ah, declarations of love, just what I like to hear :)

**MalfoySlave**: You are one for crying aren't you? Glad you liked it.

**Kelebcarak:** Not to a more physical level no, I don't think there's time. Sorry!

**Tainted Fortune**: I think Snape was meant for lurking :)

**Curious Dream Weaver**: I absolutely loved writing the kiss scene between Harry and Draco, so I'm glad you loved reading it!

**Reika**: Ah, you cried for days after 'on and on it goes'? I was particularly cruel with that story, I think I made everyone cry with that one.

**Fastidious Clarity**: Emotionally cold, that's how I see Draco I suppose. Thank you for your review, and I'm honoured that my writing touches you so much.

**Chyna16**: I hope this chapter cleared up some of your confusion!

**Doompaw**: I absolutely love Underwater Light, it has to be one of my favourite fics. I admire a lot about Maya's writing style :) Thanks for the review

**Nilladriel**: Wow, long review! I always like those the best :) makes me feel I'm actually making people think. I'm constantly trying to improve my writing and I agree with you, 'Draco by Trial' is so much better than 'On and on it goes'. Oh, and the grammar mistakes are there because I don't have a beta reader and I tend to type too fast!

**Ningchan:** Gonna see you soon! Hope you liked it.

**Harry Pothead 1**: heh heh heh, like the name :) it was a joy to read your review, again, I feel honoured to have touched so many people. It's really not my aim to make so many people cry! But I do seem to manage it somehow 

**Ruella**: urm…can't think of anything to say to your review except thank you so much!

**Micro-chick**: I think the level of thought you put into your review can definitely forgive how long it took you to write it! Definitely a 'proper' review as you put it :) I've read so many fics where people go on about Harry's eyes, and they all seem to be relatively similar. There are only so many ways to say green I suppose, I just thought it was different. I really wanted to develop Draco's character past what JKR has done which is fairly stereotypical, I wanted to make him more real (to use your words). It's a bit frustrating to always have to read him pigeon-holed into such a clichéd role. This is me setting him free in the HP world! Or something like that anyway, I think that may have sounded overly pretentious actually. Oh well, thanks for the review!


	12. Chapter 12

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, I'm just playing with them for a while. I only own the plot, such as it is :)

**RATING:** R, mainly for language, but the rating may change at some point.

**WARNING: **This fic contains slash or homosexual references, if this offends you, please do not read any further.

**A/N: **Ah the end, hope you enjoy it. This last chapter's out quicker than usual, because I thought I'd start the New Year fresh.

_And I find it kind of funny,_

_I find it kind of sad,_

_The dreams in which I'm dying,_

_Are the best I've ever had._

**Tears for Fears – Mad World**

*

Harry's journey into consciousness was troublesome; there was a blur in his mind as memories began to fight with each other. Haunting images that he couldn't seem to stop floated around, mixing, blurring, confusing. He saw Ron and Hermione, standing side by side in the Quidditch stands cheering for him as he lifted the House Cup, he saw the enraged face of Uncle Vernon and Dudley smirking behind his back, Cho's face, her cheeks smudged with tears, was closing in on him, he was alone at the lake holding a single petal from a poppy. He was flying, and he was with Draco. And then Draco was there right in front of him with a wand in his hand and a horrible, blank expression on his face. He looked at his hands and there was a knife, and blood; black, drying blood that he knew wasn't his own. He looked back up and Draco was still there, his wand still pointed directly at his heart. Draco opened his mouth, and screamed.

Harry felt a warmth on his cheek and tried to move towards it but he couldn't quite work out how. He heard a soft voice in his ear but he didn't recognise the words. Gentle and smooth they trickled their way over his soul and if they were meaningless he didn't care because he recognised that voice. He felt lips touch his own, and knew that he was home and it was all there, waiting for him to rediscover it and all he had to do was open his eyes.

He shifted his lips, opened his eyes, looked straight at Draco, and smiled.

"Draco," he said softly. But his voice was thick and his tongue felt strange in his mouth as though he hadn't used it before, and he knew that something was wrong because Draco shouldn't be looking at him like that; so afraid and relieved and tormented.

"Harry, you're awake," he said blankly, and Harry frowned; there was something at the back of his mind, nagging at him; something important that he really should remember because it would probably explain why Draco was looking at him like that. Draco leant forwards after a moment, placing Harry's glasses gently onto his face. Harry raised his hand to Draco's face which stayed near to his own, completely still. He remembered kissing Draco in a darkened classroom with rain coming in through a broken window and remembered the rejection. Like a dream, he remembered going to see Draco in his room weeks later, and felt a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth. His fingers traced softly along Draco's jaw, across his lips, over the bridge of his nose and down his cheek, where he discovered the scars. Two parallel lines that ran from his left cheekbone to his chin.

A memory flashed through his mind and he jerked his hand away, frowning again.

"Harry?" Draco spoke again, but Harry wasn't listening. He saw blood and a knife and a bottle of alcohol; he remembered pain and pleasure and fear and shame and blood, never so much _blood_. He saw a flash of green light and his hand rose automatically to his scar, but it was still there. There was a feeling of bliss; complete, overwhelming and eternal, and then there was agony; earth-shattering pain that stabbed him deeper than anything should because it reeked of betrayal and loss of innocence and utter, unforgiving revenge. He remembered his hands covered in blood; Pansy's and Draco's, and he saw his hands clean and pure being held in Draco's, running through Draco's hair, cutting at Draco's face.

He turned wide, terrified eyes towards Draco's face, who took one look at him and gathered him up into his arms. A sob wracked through Harry's frame as he felt the bottom fall out of his world. He tightened his grip around Draco and held on for dear life, as though he was afraid of falling; or afraid that Draco would let go. Another sob escaped him and he didn't know why he was crying because he should be happy, and then another wave of memories and he remembered; he remembered so vividly it almost blinded him and he cried out in pain. Draco shook him urgently.

"Harry, Harry open your eyes. _Please_." And his voice was desperate and Harry would have done anything to do what it told him, but he couldn't because he was blind, and he was a cruel, miserable creature and things were never supposed to be this way. "_Harry!" Draco shook him again and Harry let his head loll backwards, his face turned to the ceiling, and opened his eyes. He gulped in a huge breath and felt the panic begin to recede. He saw a white ceiling that he didn't recognise, and there were no cracks in it. He focussed his whole being on staring at that unfamiliar ceiling, feeling that if he could just __focus everything would be alright._

Harry lifted his head slowly after a long moment, and looked Draco in the eye. He raised his hand to the scars on Draco's face once more and stroked them gently, remembering the look Draco had given him and the way the knife had felt in his hand as it connected with Draco's face, and other feelings as well: hot, wet, _wrong liquid seeping slowly over his hands and a strange satisfaction that was misplaced and sick._

"I'm sorry," he whispered, letting his hand drop into his lap. "I was only trying to stop you. I didn't mean to hurt you like that." It was interesting and heart-breaking all at once to watch the effect those words had on Draco. Harry watched as Draco's face stiffened, and he felt the stiffening in the arms which still surrounded him. He saw a million and one emotions flitter across Draco's face; relief, pain, anger, confusion, hatred, disgust, and then it settled on despair; complete, all-consuming despair. A tear ran from Draco's eye and Harry realised that he'd never seen him cry before. "Don't," he said softly, wiping away the tear. "Don't cry." Draco straightened his shoulders and tightened his grip around Harry's waist; composure completely regained before it had been completely lost.

"I'm not crying. Malfoy's don't cry," he said tightly. A small, sad smile found Harry's lips and he gazed affectionately at Draco.

"Draco, where am I?" he asked tentatively, looking around for the first time. Draco jerked and looked quickly over his shoulder at the door, swearing under his breath.

"I'd forgotten," he muttered. "You're in St. Mungo's Harry. You've been here for over two months."

"Two months?" Harry said faintly, pulling out of Draco's embrace and gingerly lying back down in the bed. "It's been more than two months since…?" He left the question hanging and couldn't quite bear to look at Draco.

"Yes," Draco whispered, a slight waver in his voice. Harry swallowed uncomfortably, then turned his face back.

"Pansy?" he asked quietly, not sure whether he was worried about himself breaking or Draco. Draco grimaced before answering.

"Pansy…she's dead Harry." Harry felt his breath quicken once more. His hands balled into fists, scrunching up the sheets in his palms. He held on tightly as though afraid of falling from the bed, and concentrated on keeping breathing. In, out, in, out, in, out; it was so simple and at that moment, so very, very difficult. He felt his nails digging into his palms through the material in his hands and relished the pain there; it was something to concentrate on, something to believe in.

"I remember," he whispered. He noticed Draco looking over his shoulder towards the door again, and a suspicion began to rise in his mind. "Are they waiting for me?" he asked quietly. Draco's head snapped back to look at him.

"What?"

"Have they been waiting all this time? Hoping that I'll wake up so they can drag me away and lock me up? Are they going to take me to Azkaban?"

"No Harry, but they're coming for me; any minute now. They only gave me ten minutes and that was because both Snape and Dumbledore begged."

"You? But you were under Imperius! I'll tell them!" Harry felt true panic flood through him and he struggled to sit up again. They couldn't take Draco away, not when they'd only just realised; he needed Draco more than he needed oxygen because he could hold his breath but if he couldn't hold Draco there'd be nothing. Draco raised a gentle, placating hand to Harry's chest and he pushed him gently back down onto the pillows.

"Blaise is dead too Harry," he said, in the same quiet, plain voice. Harry froze; his mind shut down, his voice dried up in the back of his throat and he felt something inside of him shrivel and die.

"What? Blaise? You…" He couldn't believe it, not Draco. Draco wasn't a murderer.

"It was an accident. I tried to disarm him, but I was too angry." And there was an irony there, Harry thought dully. They'd both been so careless; so accident prone, when neither were meant to be killers because he was supposed to be the righteous hero and Draco was supposed to be there on the sidelines, shouting himself hoarse as he cheered Harry on but was never himself touched by anything because Harry was there to protect him. He thought vaguely about all those times when Draco had been protesting about not wanting to be pitied or protected or looked after; all those times he had gone on and on about fighting his own battles, and Harry had secretly dismissed it all because he just thought that Draco was being over-sensitive and that they both knew that in the end; _in the end_, Harry would save Draco from his evil father and his evil friends and his evil ways. And God the _irony in the fact that he hadn't been able to save either of them and that he was just as evil as anyone else now._

"Why don't they want me?"

"Why would they?"

"Because I-"

"I killed Pansy and Blaise Harry; they don't want you because you didn't do anything."

"But-"

"_I killed Pansy, Harry." But that didn't make sense; Draco didn't make sense and he didn't want to hear what Harry was saying. He frowned and fought to remember because his memory wouldn't play that much of a trick on him; because he _knew_ that Draco hadn't had the knife, and he couldn't possibly… He tried again._

"No, you-" But Draco wasn't listening, he was leaning in closer and stroking Harry's face feverishly, as though it was the last thing he was ever going to do and he had to make it matter.

"None of this matters anymore Harry." And Harry stared at him with a growing sense of horror, because he knew what was coming and it was too awful to even imagine. "I fixed everything. They won't come for you."

"What did you do Draco?" he asked shakily, frozen to the spot by the almost fanatical look in Draco's eyes.

"Nothing. I told the truth." Draco sat back and looked nervously over his shoulder. 

"Then why-" Draco leant back down and pressed his lips to Harry's to silence him. He ran his hand down Harry's cheek and Harry couldn't help but moan into Draco's mouth because, after everything, this was still the most important; the most _real thing that he knew. More important than what had happened to Pansy and Blaise, and more real than any of the people he'd known who had died because of him._

"It doesn't matter anymore," Draco whispered, pulling his lips away and breathing hot air across Harry's face. "Nobody expected anything else from me. They found me there like that, with you, and Pansy, and Blaise, and what else were they going to think? They were never going to believe anything else so I just told them what they wanted to hear. And now you're going to be fine Harry because I fixed it all and everything's going to be fine because you can go on and fight Voldemort and do everything you're supposed to do. Remember? You remember everything you've got to do? You've got to save us all Harry and you're our only chance; _my_ only chance, and you can't do it sitting in a dingy cell in Azkaban!" Harry sat up, pushing Draco away and staring at him, horrified at what he'd done and knowing that, at the same time, it was the most anyone ever had and ever _would do for him._

"_But you didn't kill her!" he cried. "You didn't kill her Draco_, I did_."_

*

Harry stood, momentarily frozen to the spot as he watched Draco fall to the ground under the force of Blaise's blow. He couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. On impulse, he made to move towards Draco when his foot kicked something. He looked down and saw the knife spinning gently; Draco had dropped it when Blaise had hit him, and it had fallen at Harry's feet. He picked it up without thinking, inspecting it for any damage. He hadn't really wanted to give it back; he'd stared at it every night for the past month, running his fingers over it like he'd run them over Draco's skin, had slept with it under his pillow; a sentimentality he would never have admitted to.

A movement out of the corner of his eye distracted him from the knife; Pansy had raised her wand and was pointing it directly at Draco where he was lying, panting on the ground. His fists clenched in anger at his sides. _'Such a Slytherin thing to do,' he thought. __'Attack a defenceless man when he's wounded.'_

Without a second thought he lunged for her, and they both fell heavily to the floor. He knocked her wand out of her hand and it clattered away under Draco's bed. She yelled in his face and tried to bite his hand, but he jerked away quickly. Her knee rose and connected with his thigh and he gasped in pain. He made a dive to go after her wand, but he felt her grab him around the waist and neck, pulling him back. He was struggling, trying to move; trying to get her to let go him. He turned around, his hand in a fist, and wanted nothing more than to hit her. He felt Draco behind him, pulling on his shoulders, telling him to stop, but he was swinging his fist and it connected with her stomach and the satisfaction he felt was indescribable, and then she stopped struggling.

Harry glanced down at his hand, clenched into a fist he'd only meant to hit her with and wrapped around the handle of the knife which was now embedded in Pansy's stomach. He'd forgotten that he'd picked it up; had gotten so used to the weight of it in his hand that he'd barely noticed it was there. But he saw it now; couldn't take his eyes off of it now because it was in Pansy's stomach and there was blood quickly seeping around the edges and he'd put it there. He felt Draco's hands drop from his shoulders but he couldn't look away. He jerked his hand from the handle and there was blood on his palm.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." The words began to tumble from his lips and he wasn't thinking anymore. His legs gave out from beneath him and he fell to the floor with a jolt. He watched Pansy stare at the knife then at Draco, and then watched with a dull horror as she pulled it out of herself.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."

*

Draco stared into Harry's face, charting his emotions by the expressions that flitted across it. He felt the pressure of time weighing his shoulders down and wished for the ability to stop it, or at least slow it down so that he could say everything he had to; everything he'd wished he could say but had never imagined the chance to get to say it. 

"Listen to me Harry," he said urgently. "There isn't much time. Forget about Pansy."

"Where are they taking you?" Draco sighed patiently and wished that this could be easier because he didn't want Harry to panic again. The panic attack hadn't lasted long, but it had been long enough. Harry had gripped at him so hard it was painful, but nothing had hurt him more than the horrific, heart-wrenching sobs that had come out of his mouth and soul as he'd remembered everything that had happened. Draco had had over two months to deal with this, to Harry it must only seem like a few hours. And Draco knew exactly how he felt; the overwhelming need to just scream at the world for being so unfair and so ungrateful.

"To Azkaban," he said softly, knowing that it was where he belonged because Harry may have been holding the knife, but it was Draco's fault that he'd even had the opportunity to wield it. Harry began frantically trying to struggle out of his bed again.

"I'm not going to let you do this Draco," he said calmly, but looking as though his world was falling down around his ears. _'Oh God I'm so sorry.'_

"You don't have a choice Harry. I was on trial, they gave me Veritaserum. As far as they're concerned what I told them was the truth. They won't believe you." Harry looked at him with eyes full of pleading and hot tears, but he knew that he had to stay strong; that this was for Harry's own good.

"How can you be so cold about this?" Harry almost wailed it and Draco felt his heart shrivel up a bit more.

"Because I have to be."

"Draco…I _can't…" he begged._

"Yes, you can," he said softly, stroking Harry's cheek and leaning in to kiss him again. He feathered light kisses all over Harry's face, lingering on his scar and the corner of his mouth. He drew away quickly, needing the distance but not wanting to tear himself away, and revelled briefly in the look of complete bliss on Harry's face. He opened his eyes slowly, dreamily, and fixed him with such an intense look that Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"How did you lie?" Harry asked softly, and it wasn't what Draco had been expecting. He looked towards the door again, expecting Snape to stride through it at any moment.

"Does it really matter?"

"Yes."

*

Draco felt hands pulling at him; pulling him away from Harry. He struggled but they were too strong, too insistent. He felt a cold silence overwhelm him as he watched them take him away. He was carried out of the room and now Snape was looking at him; talking with an almost desperate look on his face, but Draco couldn't hear anything.

"Will he be alright?" he asked, but his voice sounded too thick and echoed too much. He shook his head to rid himself of the sensation, but it didn't work. He was alone with Snape now, who was pacing and gesturing wildly, and he wished that they hadn't taken Harry away because now he was thinking again.

He thought about what had happened, and couldn't get the image of Harry's unconscious face out of his mind. He'd thought he was dead; had been so sure that he'd killed the only person who had ever loved him, but he hadn't died; he'd survived the curse again. Draco saw his own wand pointed at Harry's chest, and the look of utter betrayal in his face, and the feeling of complete calm and satisfaction, and felt a wave of revulsion and guilt seep slowly over himself. He saw the flash of green once more and knew that he should have tried harder to fight it, and began to hate himself even more. He heard the sound of Blaise's head cracking against the wall over and over, and it was the only thing which relieved the pain because he'd deserved it.

As Draco sat on the floor, watching Snape pace back and forth erratically, he knew one thing: this was all his own fault. He watched Snape stop talking and stare at him, before shrugging his shoulders irritably and walking towards the door to talk to whoever was out there. Draco gripped his hand around his wand, which no-one had taken off of him yet, and called forth dusty memories of libraries and warmth and pipe smoke. He felt the leather beneath his fingers and the crackle of each yellowed page as he read delicately over every word; taking it all in. He took a breath, and began to whisper.

"Sensi fides commendo. Sensi fides commendo." Repeating this over and over, a small, almost imperceptible glow emitted from his wand and surrounded him. He would protect, he would trust and he would believe. Harry had given him a gift; had set him free, and he would repay it over and over again and would never be satisfied that he had done enough.

*

"It's a simple spell. I got the idea from one of my grandfather's books I read years ago. It's meant to protect the one you trust and love most in the world. Because I was protecting you; because I love you, I was able to change what I believed really happened. I already believed that I was the guilty one, not you, so everything else was simple." He registered eyes staring at him and he looked into Harry's face. Tears were falling slowly, running down his cheeks and falling from his chin.

"Draco I-"

"Shh," Draco whispered, pressing his finger to Harry's lips. "It's OK." Harry shook his head but didn't say any more. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders and began to rock back and forth. "It's OK, it's OK," he whispered over and over, not knowing who he was trying to comfort. Harry began to struggle again and Draco loosened his grip on him. Harry turned his face to his, their noses brushing together. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He took a deep, shaking breath, but still couldn't manage anything. Draco smiled at him softly. "I know." They stared into each others eyes, and Draco found more truth and love and comfort there than he had ever imagined there to be in the whole world.

"How long?" Harry whispered.

"Ten years."

"I can't let you do this Draco."

"You don't have a choice."

The door to the room opened, and Draco sighed in resignation. He felt Harry stiffen in his arms, and felt hands come up to grip his arms protectively. He heard footsteps walking briskly towards them, stopping at a discreet distance.

"Draco, it's time to…Hello Mr Potter." Harry didn't say anything so Draco gently prised himself out of his embrace and turned to look at Snape.

"He's awake," he said numbly. Snape continued to stare at Harry for a moment, before focussing on Draco.

"Yes, I can see that Draco. I'll get the doctor immediately." He appeared to pause, looking at Draco for a moment longer then turning to Harry. "You're a very lucky young man Mr Potter." He turned on his heel and briskly left. Harry turned his face back to Draco's.

"Draco, _please-" he began desperately, reaching out for him again, but Draco drew further away, knowing that if he gave in now he would never be able to let go._

"I've got to go Harry," he said quietly.

"I'll come and visit you," Harry said quickly, "I'll get you out-"

"No!" Draco said harshly. "Don't. I don't want you to." He stood up and Harry followed him, standing also, a horrible, confused expression on his face.

"But-" Draco grabbed onto his forearms and pushed him back into a sitting position on the bed. He looked down fondly at him, putting his hand on the side of his face.

"I did this for you Harry. I did this so you wouldn't waste your life. We would never have worked, find yourself someone else; someone safer."

"There isn't anyone else," Harry whispered, tears flowing freely now. _'I know,' Draco thought. Snape re-entered the room, with two doctors behind him. They bustled up to Harry, pushing Draco gently aside so that they could get a good look at their miracle patient. Draco felt a gentle hand on his wrist._

"Draco," came Snape's soft voice in his ear.

"I know," he whispered and turned to leave.

"No!" Harry gave a strangled cry and struggled to push the doctors away.

"Mr Potter please! You'll only weaken yourself more! You've been through a terrible ordeal," one of the doctors pleaded.

"Get off me!" Harry shouted, pushing them roughly aside and turning Draco roughly back around. He wrapped his arms around him and held on tight.

"Harry," Draco whispered, though his heart was breaking. He ran his hands over Harry's back and felt such pain rising up in him. "Harry, you have to let me go."

*****

And he was dying; truly dying inside when Draco touched him just like that and looked at him with those eyes which told him to be strong. He reached out for Draco and found that he was already there. His hand curled around the back of his neck and he pulled him desperately close. He didn't care that Snape was there and doctors were there and guards from Azkaban were waiting outside to take away the only person he'd ever loved. All he cared about; all he needed, was Draco. But all too soon he had to pull away and lose the warmth and the safety and the love because Draco turned away and didn't look back. Harry watched numbly as Snape placed a hand on Draco's shoulder and ushered him out of the door. The room began to spin and Harry couldn't breathe again. He gasped but there didn't seem to be enough air. His hands flailed weakly and he felt someone grab onto him but he was too far away now because he'd left the room with Draco and he wasn't coming back. He vaguely heard someone calling his name, but there was a blackness reaching out towards him and he wouldn't refuse it because it was all that he had.

*

Harry woke a few hours later, feeling tired and weak. He opened his eyes tentatively only to shut them quickly again with a groan because the light flooding the room made his head ache. He turned his head to the side, muttering unintelligibly, and felt someone gently push his glasses onto his face. He opened his eyes again and the smiling faces of Ron and Hermione came into focus, and he found that he couldn't help the smile that touched his lips for a moment. He thought fondly about the strength of their friendship which he had thought, after such a long time and all the changes they had gone through, had been fading.

Clearly unable to control herself any longer, Hermione threw herself joyfully at him.

"Oh Harry!" she cried. "We thought you were never going to wake up again!" Harry patted her awkwardly on the arm until Ron gently pulled her away and he could see the tears in her eyes. "We've been so worried!"

"How're you feeling?" Ron asked quietly, looking genuinely relieved to see his friend awake.

"Like I've been run over by a bus repeatedly," Harry mumbled, and suddenly began to feel nauseous and shaky as memories of the last time he woke up hit him.

"The doctors are all astonished," Hermione said excitedly. "They were saying all along that if it took more than two weeks you weren't going to wake up and that your body needed time to recuperate but that more than two weeks was too long. And they kept going on about surges of magic and overloads and…" Harry let her voice flow over him, as his thoughts returned to Draco and that last look he had given him before leaving; so full of despair but strength and love. His breathing hitched and he closed his eyes, fighting not to drown in the wave of hopelessness which washed over him. He couldn't let him do it; _nobody was worth destroying your life for._

"I have to see Dumbledore," he said, interrupting Hermione's flow. He reopened his eyes to look at his friends, and saw them exchanging a worried glance.

"Why?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"I need to talk to him about Draco," he said decisively. Ron's face darkened and his cheeks flushed red with anger.

"What about him? You wouldn't believe some of the things he's been saying about you," he said with a disgusted look. Harry watched Hermione place her hand gently on his arm and squeeze. "If you ask me Azkaban's where he belongs." Harry sat bolt upright, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed.

"Shut up Ron," he snapped. "You don't know what you're talking about." Ron bristled.

"Look I know you were friends and everything, I didn't like it but it's not like I tried to stop you! But the things he said! I mean, he tried to make out that you…that you…" His voice trailed off and the disgusted look appeared on his face again.

"What?" Harry snapped.

"He said that you kissed him; that you were in love with him," Hermione said, looking straight at Harry. Harry closed his eyes and fell back onto the bed.

"Everybody knows?" he whispered.

"What?!" Ron exploded.

"They gave him a truth serum Harry, he couldn't lie. I don't think he wanted to anyway."

"What?" Ron shouted again.

"Shut up Ron, you're not helping," Hermione snapped, before turning back to Harry. "Harry?" she asked softly. Harry looked up at her numbly.

"He loves me back you know," he said, feeling tears prickle behind his eyelids. He heard Draco's voice begging him over and over: _'Just let me do this for you Harry, just let me do this.'_

"I know," she answered softly, and pulled him into her arms. "I know." Harry pulled away after a moment and looked into their faces. Hermione with a concerned look in her eyes and Ron, barely able to look at him, and he knew that he couldn't tell them. He couldn't bear to have them push him away and point their fingers at him as they screamed 'murderer!' in his face, but that was what Draco had condemned himself to. He turned his face away, consumed by guilt and not being able to stand being near them anymore because he was so dirty and they were so clean and pure and trusting in him. He lay back down with his back turned to them and curled into a ball.

"I need to sleep," he mumbled. He felt Hermione's hand gently touch his head, stroking his hair for a moment before she pulled away.

"OK, we'll be back later," she whispered. "I think Professor Dumbledore will want to see you anyway." He listened to their footsteps fade away and heard the click of the door. He curled up smaller and began to rock back and forth, dry sobs building up within him. He couldn't stand to leave Draco alone there, but he felt so helpless. What Draco had said was true: no-one would believe him, especially not now that they knew that he was in love with Draco. There would be no trial for him, no truth serum and no chance to tell his side because Draco had seen to it that no-one would want to know. Everything had already been done, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

There had been many times when Harry had doubted what Draco really felt for him. He had never quite managed to decipher what was going on behind his eyes, until that time on the Quidditch pitch when Draco had screamed at him that he'd kissed him. Harry had looked into his eyes and had seen the pain and confusion and betrayal there, and had known from that moment on that everything that he did affected Draco just as much as Draco's actions affected him. It had been from that moment that he knew that he loved Draco Malfoy, and that he always would. But now that had all been taken away from him; ruthlessly wrested from his hands by two selfish and conceited Slytherins who had ended up dead.

And there was nothing he could do to stop what had happened because people had died and Draco was on his way to Azkaban, and not even Dumbledore would believe him now.

*

Draco jerked as the cell-door slammed behind him, leaving him in almost total darkness. There was a small window in the wall opposite with no glass but thick iron bars. Soft moonlight filtered through, creating more shadows than light. He walked slowly over to it, hoping for a comforting view but saw only jagged rocks, stretching into the sea. A harsh wind whistled through the bars, whipping at his face and making him gasp, but he stayed there, gazing silently into the sea until his eyes began to water. Shivering violently in the thin prison robes he had been given, he finally moved away from the window and stumbled clumsily in the dark towards the bed in the corner. The springs creaked ominously as he sat, but he ignored them. He patted his pockets for cigarettes, before remembering that they'd been taken off of him. Sighing, he let his shoulders slump and put his head in his hands.

He'd tried not to think about this; about the cold and the loneliness and the utter despair. Even when Snape had left him at the prison gates with a gentle hand on the shoulder and a solemn nod, he hadn't let himself think. Because he knew if he did; if he thought about tomorrow and the next day and the next, he would begin to panic and wouldn't be able to stop. He would have screamed after Snape that he was afraid, that he couldn't _stand_ it and that he didn't belong there. 

Now there was only silence, and the sound of his own thoughts. And he could feel them all, around him and above him and below him: hundreds of witches and wizards drowning in their own sorrow and self-pity and regret; hundreds of people who had committed much worse crimes than he had for all he had done was fall in love with the wrong person.

His breathing quickened and his hands tightened in his hair. He scrunched his eyes shut and tried to imagine that he was somewhere else; somewhere with Harry, but he was too cold and all he could hear was the lonely whistling of the wind.

He was to be here for the next ten years, locked away in this godforsaken hole where all he could do was wait to be driven insane by the silence, or wait for his father to come and get him. And he would be dragged unceremoniously back to the Death Eaters and Voldemort, and then he would be even further from Harry than he was now. He lay down on the bed, curling into a ball and wrapping himself in the thin blankets in an attempt to stop shivering. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself and tried to imagine that they were Harry's, and that they were alone together somewhere and happy. He allowed a single tear to run down his cheek as he lay awake and waited for tomorrow.

_Fin_

**A/N: **That's the end! Not very happy I know, but now I get to tell you that there will be a sequel! Woohoo! Don't know when I'll start it because it's still in the planning stages, but if you want me to tell you when I start posting just tell me :)

Thank you _so much to every single person who has left me a review, they've all been absolutely wonderful and they've made me enjoy writing this even more knowing that so many people were appreciating the story. Thanks a lot!_

**Famous angel: **really wasn't trying to kill you!

**Ningchan****: I know you don't like un-fluffy endings, but you knew it was coming :) Thanks for leaving me reviews sweetie xxx**

**Annakas****: Don't be too hard on Hermione! You have to understand that she doesn't know everything that's gone on and she's only trying to look after Harry's best interests**

**JAS: **Thank you :) hope I didn't make you wait too long.

**GaBrIeLa2: **Well that was the last chapter, I feel sorry for Draco too :(

**Maira****: *blushes* Thank you. The most important thing to me in this fic was the development of their relationship, everything else really is just background when you feel so much for a person.**

**MalfoySlave****: crying again? Well it's the last chapter but not the end :)**

**Harry Pothead 1: **depressed for days? I love it when a story does that to me :)

**Doompaw****: well you don't have to beg for a sequel :) glad you liked the story**

**FlyingSpark****: Thanks! I really was worried about the last chapter, but I got so many nice reviews that I felt much better! I hope you liked this final chapter as much :)**

**Kristen: ***smiles* thank you

**Usually Immaculate Aristocrat: **I think from what I've read in the books, the thing with wands is that you can use someone else's but that it's never quite as powerful. There's one wand that's suited best to you, but you can use others. Thanks for the review!

**Micro-Chick: **Aha, very perceptive! Does that mean I was too obvious? Well you were right :) hope you feel proud of yourself! Thank you for the lovely review and I'm really glad you've liked the story so much :)

**Curious Dream Weaver:** Aha, all has been revealed :) Thank you for all of your reviews!

**Ruella****: *smiles*, yes Micro-chick is quite good! OK, updated before the 2nd, happy? Thanks for all of your reviews :)**


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